


Tane - 種

by krazorspoon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Earth, Anti-Capitalism, BDSM, Bondage, Environmental, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Kink, LGBT, LGBTQAIP+, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Original work - Freeform, Other, Sadism, Sadomasochism, Sci-Fi, Science, Science Fiction, Sex, Sexuality, Supernatural - Freeform, Tane - Freeform, Violence, space travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2018-12-11 09:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11711511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krazorspoon/pseuds/krazorspoon
Summary: Earth is laid to waste, due to consumerism and pollution. Tane [Tah-nay] is a planet where humankind must thrive, preventing the same fate of their ancestors. The first generation of natives are determined to define their lives and relationships. Friends and neighbours couldn't be more different from each other, and subspecies exist undetected among the humans. The intention of the planet may have been to improve the quality of health, environment, and life, but love, tragedy, and conflict will always follow those social in nature. Follow the lives of two deeply connected young men and their close friends as the simplicity of life on the new planet becomes interwoven with complication.





	1. Prologue and Chapter One

** PROLOGUE **

Having predicted the horrific decline of the planet based on the waste fed by consumerism, a small group of Japanese scientists in the 1960’s began planning alternative solutions. Environmental movements emerged with the intention of reducing and controlling the pollutants seeping into Earth’s ecosystem. Unfortunately, the pleas and demands were brushed under the rug by multimillionaire corporations, as they only had eyes for profit through their factories’ mass production. During this time, technology advanced to unbelievable heights. New sources of energy were discovered, but not coveted. Wealthy companies payed for ads of their goods through newspapers, radio, and television to an unhealthy extent. Most people fell for the persuasion of the newest, most trendy items. The non-biodegradable items produced and inevitably thrown away rotted in landfills, covered islands, and drowned the oceans, suffocating wildlife and choking natural habitats.

Humankind as a whole had learned little of conserving and protecting the resources necessary to sustain life on Earth within their 200,000 year lifespan. Large corporations realised that as populations grew, consumerism had to follow. They took control of agriculture, speeding up the process, and taking away the compassion farmers often had for their produce and livestock. The need for mass production and the improved transportation of goods became a priority. By the middle of the 20th century, factories, train ways, and coal burning showed clear signs of oceanic and atmospheric destruction. It didn’t stop there. The planet’s ecosystem fell apart globally as factories overcrowded the land. Due to the limited space, architects were contracted to build residential departments onto company buildings. Land was bought and natural resources were hoarded. Meanwhile, around 300 million hectares of forests were lost do to the desperate need for the products they could be destroyed for. Wildlife as a whole became endangered, captured, and shown off like a rare commodity at zoos and theme parks. Smog blanketed the continents and humanity suffered with multitudes of health problems. Most food became processed or manufactured. All of Earth’s natural beauty had become desolate by the late 90’s. Masks for safer breathing became a necessity of daily life.

The scientists who had predicted Earth’s downfall hadn’t been deterred from their hopeful aspirations. While factories smothered the terra and plastics overtook the oceans, similar groups of scientists formed and maintained connections with each other in each country. They called themselves INJ, or Ikinoko no Jinrui [Survival of Humankind]. The goal was shared and simple. Humans had to relocate to a new planet before there was no life left. Years of scanning the skies made it clear that the new planet couldn’t be pre-existing. Thanks to funding through a convenient connection with a CEO of an inherited billion dollar business, INJ was able to launch multiple under the radar space programmes. Through the helpful financing, the search for the ideal location to plant what would be a completely, artificially constructed planet drew nearer.

The destination was within the Messier 109 Group. An ideal spiral, barred galaxy had been identified within its bounds, equipped with a supernova and a perfect vacancy around 92.95 million miles from it. Upon its identification, the international teams banded together and began developing immediately. It was throughout the rapid decline of Earth that ‘Tane’ was created in secret. The new planet mirrored Earth’s dimensions, mass, magnetic field, and atmosphere. The ratio of water the land was a similar 72%. Oceans split the continents, and beneath everything tectonic plates had been carefully constructed. Rivers, lakes, and many other bodies of water decorated the land. Its orbit held three moons, and the surrounding planets were identifiable from the planet’s surface. The larger of the most visible two, a beautiful blue gas giant in winter’s night sky.

Due to the nature of INJ, the secretive groups stealthily sent messages to highly regarded and refutable doctors, architects, engineers, landscaping specialists, botanists, bio-engineers, farmers, and construction workers. The instructions were specific: Learn the common language and teach it to your families. Bring your skills and help revive humanity in its new home. In the year 2000, those who accommodated were quietly brought upon the best, high tech space ship technology could create, and sent in cryostasis to Tane. The dim lights of the craft disappeared in the heavy night smog, leaving the grey, decaying planet and those blinded by materialism behind. It was on the new planet that the humans began living and thriving, with strict rules for environmental care already in place. Within the first few years, many parents bore children, thus starting the first generation of natives to the planet. Among the families and friends of the new continents, ethnicities, cultures, religions, and races, social lives continued as they always had. It wasn’t long before life on the new planet felt natural, and of course much healthier.

** CHAPTER ONE **

Tension had risen to a whole new level at the Saburemiji home. After since Rinku tragically became afflicted by amnesia, the social structure that tied everyone together slowly deteriorated. First it had been the young adult and his boyfriend. With no recollection of the bonds outside of his father’s clutches, the relationship between him and his lover ceased to be. He renamed himself, since his father preferred to call him “boy”, or “fool”, among less gentle terms. The man whom he’d previously been deeply involved with could do nothing but distance himself after accepting that their ties could not be rekindled. The two became strangers, and eventually never spoke again.

The dismay and strain was too much for the lover. He had cared so desperately for the boy now named Shizuka, but his passion and compassion were as useless as his unrequited love. Although the older man’s soul remained within the body of another, he suffered heart ache so overwhelming that he chose to take his own life. However, due to the unique circumstance of his parasitic existence, he wound up destroying the life of the man whose body he shared, rather than his own.

In an attempt to heal and restore both damaged souls, family and friends came together and studied forbidden arcane sciences thoroughly. Through the properties of alchemy, health was restored to the man with a broken heart. The advanced science of body regeneration at the most prestigious lab available enabled the captured soul to return to the recreated body of the man whose life was taken from him. After a long period of rest and recovery, the first to return to consciousness decided it was time to start anew.

Every day since the incident became a guilt ridden torture: A reminder of his selfish mistake. He had his own body, scarred with memories of the past, and his half-brother had a new and unscathed body of his own. Since the brother returned home, the discomfort became so thick and uncomfortable that the older of the two couldn’t bear to stick around. It was then that he realised, with his newfound physical freedom, he had no need to continue living within the walls of the same home. He had no real familial ties, as far as he was concerned. Nothing persuaded him to stay. He moved out promptly within the same month, without saying a word to anyone, and had his name legally changed to that of his original host from over a century ago. He decided it was time he took back his life.

Yami Rîmaru had always been the type to keep to himself. He rarely chose to have company, as he found humans to be a nuisance. He was the quiet type of man with an occasional look of violence or aggression beneath his otherwise stoic expression. He stared into his dark purple eyes within this mirrored reflection. His face was dimly lit by only the flickering flames of the few black candles he kept atop the bathroom counter. His pale skin caught the soft light, contrasting strongly against his tight, dark, long sleeved shirt and purple hair. Glints of candlelight caught the crimson red highlights in his choppy, long hair as he combed his fingers through his bangs. He grimaced, remembering his foolish plan.

Nine years ago he had moved into his new home. The neighbourhood was typical, equipped with varying architectural designs from house to house. Each yard was complimented by a fairly well tended lawn. Some of the neighbours kept up with their flower gardens or general landscaping. It was a peaceful street, and he was a quiet man. He knew he blended in well during the daytime, seeming to not exist at all. Of course, that was exactly how he intended to be regarded. He had spent nine years keeping himself occupied with extravagant heists, thievery, and attacks in the night, meanwhile working his way up the ladder at a law and security firm during the day. Since his soul could no longer take refuge in the body of his half-brother, he spent a large portion of his free time calculating every angle, potential complication, and hypothetical obstacle that could possibly intervene with his illegal activities. He had to work harder than ever before to remain anonymous, and his success was displayed publicly over news channels and radio transmissions. His night time activities and elusive nature had become widely recognised throughout the state. Reporters and journalists collectively began referred to him as Kage no Akuma, or Demon’s Ghost. He found the title flattering, if not a little undermining. Ghosts, he thought, could leave no traces of their physical presence, whereas he trademarked various notes written in ancient script mixed with codes and metaphors all in a foreign tongue that was spoken in the earliest years of his life, and on humankind’s dead planet. So far, there weren’t experts around that could translate or decode it, and he reveled in his ability to leave clues for the next planned crimes of which could be no help. The act was artistic in a way. It had been nine years since he gained a body of his own, and he had honed his skills of thievery and assault thusly.

Leaving the bathroom, he sauntered up the stairs. His bedroom occupied the majority of space in the basement. It was cold and dark down there, precisely how he liked it. A creature of the night at the core, he had no desire for exposure natural light. His heavy steps led him to the main floor. He locked the door leading to the basement, then pocketed the key beneath the black leather of his jeans. He wouldn’t bother with security within his own home on a regular basis, but the present occasion was much different. He intended to choose a room mate to share his home with. In theory, the idea was solid. If he could continue to be organised and stealthy when bringing stolen artifacts home, or on his way to the basement to clean himself from the blood of his victims, an unknowing room mate would make for a perfect alibi. He didn’t anticipate capture or interrogation, but he knew the reason he remained free for as long as he had was precisely due to his many counter measures.

His house was reasonable in size. One floor, a basement, fairly spacious, one bedroom, two bathrooms, a double garage, a patio out back with nice yards. Since he had the basement in use as his own bedroom rather than the intended room upstairs, the room above remained vacant. Despite that, the rest of his home was well furnished by his expensive tastes and kept neatly in order. His dark themes were evident in the mahogany and cherrywood tables and shelves, and his particular interest in dim lighting shone through his closed shades and minimalist light fixtures. He let out a sigh after glancing at the victorian style grandfather clock in the living room. Already eight hours had passed since he started interviewing potential room mates. So far everyone had been pathetic, moronic, and annoying as expected. He was hoping he’d at least find one decent applicant. Rubbing his temples, he stepped toward the sectional to take a seat. Maybe he should have gone over paper applications instead of seeing the people in person. At least that would’ve saved him the headache. He was so much more accustomed to paperwork thanks to his current profession. It was nearly 6PM, the hour in which the article he had put online specified for applicant cut-off. He almost felt relieved. He had no trouble financing the place on his own, due to his high income at the law and security firm coupled with his knack for stealing expensive artwork and decor. He had put up the ad almost on a whim. Perhaps it was better this way, he thought. He would probably be worse off with a room mate if what he saw so far was all there was to offer.

Just then, the doorbell sounded. Again, Yami looked to the clock: 6:02PM. It was bad enough that he had to be awake during the daytime on a weekend for the sake of scheduling a reasonable timeframe to accommodate the humans he had to interview, but to be subjected to tardiness? He was wearing thin on patience. He walked to the front door, his black leather boots heavy on the wooden floor of the hallway. He just had to tell the person they missed their chance. Too bad.

He opened the door to find a girl who met his cold stare. For a split second, she looked shocked at the homeowner’s appearance, then her face returned to what was presumably her natural expression. Yami opened his mouth to speak, fully intent on shutting her down and shooing her away, but he was cut off before a word escaped.

“I’m here about renting.” The girl looked to be in her mid-twenties, if not a bit younger. She was average height and wore a high ponytail above another, both of which were poorly restraining her thick, mostly dark grey hair. She kept her long light brown bangs parted in the middle and tied in front of her ears and out of her face. She had on a tight, waist high halter top, loosely fitting, baggy, cargo shorts, and skater shoes. Her clothes were mostly dark monochromatic, save for some orange accents. She smiled up at him, highlighting the maroon hue across her lips.

“I’m done here,” Yami replied shortly, his slight Romanian accent slipping out. He watched as a look of disbelief crossed the girl’s face. Apparently she was expecting at least a little hospitality.

“Listen,” she said, dropping the friendly demeanor she was portraying just moments ago. She stared into his judging eyes, “I woke up early for this. The least you could do is show me around, then tell me off.” There was a look of frustrated confidence upon her face and in the tone of her voice. Yami stared back at her, considering her outburst through a judgmental stare.

“Fine,” he said back tiredly. He had been subjected to social dynamics he would have preferred avoiding since 10AM that morning. He heard all sorts of life stories he had never even asked about. He had to kick people out, and in one case physically shove someone out the door. He was mentally exhausted and didn’t have the energy to argue with some girl who just crawled out of bed too late to get to her interview on time. He opened the door wider, a sign for her to come in.

The tall man stepped aside as she entered his home. He led her down the hall and turned at the first right. He flipped the light switch on the other side of the archway and looked away.

“Kitchen,” he said unenthusiastically. A stained mahogany table with two chairs stood beside the wall to their right. The early summer sun came through two windows on the front facing wall, which countertops and cabinets followed along until turning with the angle of the far wall where the dishwasher, refrigerator, and oven were installed. There was a door directly across the room.

“Garage?” the girl asked, mocking the simplicity in his description of the room. She let out a small chuckle as she walked across the dining room. After opening the door to find a cold, dark space, she found the switch on the wall to her right and lit up the garage. In a space for two cars, one side was occupied by a sleek, sporty, and obviously expensive black convertible. The make and model wasn’t recognisable so she assumed it must have been imported or custom made. It had probably been shipped overseas or something, since the guy didn’t seem to have a mechanic’s theme in the rest of the garage. The walls were lined with the usual basics; various weather maintenance gear, a lawn mower in the far corner, and one table with standard home care tools.

“Damn,” she said, emphasising her approval. “Nice car.” She laughed to herself, seeming to judge the man by his appearance and belongings so far. She switched off the light and closed the door to the garage. When she turned back toward the kitchen, she saw that she was being left behind. She lifted an eyebrow at his progressively odd behaviour. It may have been that she persuaded the man to show her around although he obviously didn’t want to, but he was acting weirder than she would have expected. She stopped a few feet from where he stood.

The door in front of him was along the same wall as the kitchen. Inside was a washing machine, a table with a laundry basket on it, a dryer, another table in the far corner, and two windows on the wall facing the backyard. The room was quaint, still with more than enough space to move freely, and the washer and dryer looked efficient and very modern. They too looked expensive.

“Laundry room,” the man said, then flipped off the light and walked away. The girl followed more quickly, not wanting to get left behind again. “This is the living room,” he commented, facing a wide room with closed blinds blocking out the evening sun. A large entertainment centre sat beneath a huge, flatscreen television against the wall perpendicular to the window. A nice home sound system was set up on either side of the TV and also near the ceiling on the opposing wall. Beneath them was an incredibly comfortable looking slate recliner with red, stained mahogany end tables on either side, and a long, dark grey sectional with a matching dark wood coffee table in front of it. Atop the table was a decorative tea set equipped with two cups and a small teapot. Had he intended to serve her?

The girl bit her tongue, preventing herself from critiquing the man on his more descriptive sentence for the living room, versus the previous rooms. Social skills aside, the man was organised and had nice accommodations. Despite his alternative appearance, he was obviously responsible, employed, and wealthy. She followed him halfway down the hall and peeked toward the direction he pointed next. It was a sliding glass door separating the house from the backyard. The girl parted the blinds and looked through the glass. Outside, the beige stone patio was decorated with a black metal framed round, glass table and two matching chairs that faced the yard. She toggled the light switch to find a dim outdoor light coming from against the brick on the other side of the wall. She noted that for a rich guy, he really didn’t splurge on lighting costs.

“Porch,” he said, then walked a few feet farther down the hallway and said, “bathroom.”

The girl walked over and looked inside. Around the corner were the toilet and sink. Farthest back was a shower with a tub base. Against the back wall was a window and a linen cabinet. The room appeared untouched. She wondered if the guy even spent any time in this home. Maybe he had another, and this was just for some kind of land owning revenue. It may have been that he just wanted a renter to gather some extra cash to pay for some ritzy new yacht to add to his collection.

The young woman saw another door across the hall and took it upon herself to open it, already anticipating what was on the other side.

“Bedroom!” she said. The sunlight in the room shone through partially closed blinds, unlike how blocked out it was in most of the rest of the place. The air in the room felt stuffy, most likely due to the lack of circulation. It seemed like the man usually kept the door shut. It was spacious, with windows on both the front and side walls. The room was otherwise completely empty. She already seemed to be imagining where to arrange her belongings. The man stepped back, ready to show her out since the tour was over. It was then that she realised she hadn’t seen his room. “Where do you stay?” she asked, uncertain for a moment whether or not she missed a room.

“Downstairs,” he replied promptly. “There’s no need to show you.” He turned and walked away. She followed a few feet behind him as he retired to the living room. “If you’re finished here, be on your way.” She heard the sound of him dropping himself onto the sofa and letting out a sigh. Yami closed his eyes and leaned his head back. It had been a long day. He was eager to return to a long overdue peace and quiet. For a few minutes, he let himself relax. The girl stood in front of the living room, reflecting on everything she was shown as well as the guy in front of her. Not having heard the sound of the front door closing behind his guest, the tall man opened an irritated eye just in time to see the girl take a seat on the recliner. She looked at the cups on the tray in front of him. After reaching over to pour herself a cup, she crossed her legs and sipped her tea. Yami watched with a crude, yet curious expression.

“When’s the soonest I can move in?”

“You’re not serious?” the man asked incredulously. The girl smiled back at him, visibly sure of her decision.

“I am,” she affirmed, closing her eyes and sipping more tea with a cocky demeanor. It was evident by her body language that she was unable to be swayed.

Staring at her, the man took his time before his next response. After she opened her eyes and shifted her view to him, he straightened up. She watched him set his hands on his knees and lift his chin to look down on her from where he sat. She stared back confidently as his eyes narrowed.

“I’m Yami Rîmaru.” Although he didn’t formally accept her as an applicant and she had never even been interviewed, his response seemed to be an approval.

“I’m Xiaoli Teng.” She paused before restating her previous question. “When can I move in?

“As soon as you’re able,” Yami said with a hint of a smile.


	2. Chapter Two

** CHAPTER TWO **

A couple months had passed and Xiaoli settled into Yami’s place. The two didn’t go out of their way to talk to one another, and rarely spent more than a few minutes in the same room. One particular night, the girl had spent nine hours straight working with what she referred to as “financing”. She had grown sore from sitting before her computer. Deciding to take a break, she grabbed her keys and readied herself to head out for fast food. On her way out, she spotted the tall, dark haired man heading out as well.

“Hey!” she called out to him with a wave. Yami stopped with his hand on the doorknob and turned his head slightly, making eye contact with her. “I’m about to head for some food. Wanna come with?” She gave him a friendly smile and took a few steps toward him. Yami stared into her golden brown eyes.

“No,” he replied shortly, then left and closed the door behind himself.

Xiaoli stood frozen for a few seconds, surprised at the response she was given. She frowned, frustrated with his attitude, rather than disapproval. “Prick,” she mumbled to herself, then headed out.

A few weeks later, Xiaoli had caught on to several peculiar habits the older man had. After poking around the entertainment centre, she realised how distressingly disappointing Yami’s tastes were. He didn’t have any consoles or hard drives containing stored movies or games. Since she didn’t have access to any of his personal things to snoop through, she made her way to the kitchen. A hot pot of coffee sat atop the counter. The fill line was just below the eight cup marker, showing that her room mate had already helped himself. She was curious about how unusual the setting was and felt almost intrusive, but helped herself to a cup anyway. Coffee in hand, she headed back to the living room. She took a seat in the middle of the couch after snagging the remote and powered on the enormous flatscreen TV. The channel was always first set to news or crime coverage stories. It was like the guy had a creepy infatuation with conflict. At least Yami himself didn’t seem like an incredibly conflict driven person. Then again, his social avoidance didn’t give him many opportunities to reveal much about his personality.

She gently blew the steam from her cup. Fortunately she had added her own supply of sugar and creamer to the kitchen stock. Her room mate apparently preferred black coffee and plain tea. Xiaoli had remedied that issue her first week living with him. She looked left of the television, checking for signs of life in the direction of the basement door. Maybe she was wrong about the communal coffee and it had all been for Yami. Maybe his piercing eyes would penetrate her soul and immobilise her with guilt for her wrong doing. Maybe he’d fight her.

Xiaoli laughed to herself at the unrealistic thoughts. Since she barely knew him, it was easy to impose ridiculous behavioural traits onto his personality. She blew on her coffee again, looking back to the story on TV. The reporter was standing in front of a building that appeared to be some kind of art museum a few cities over. The strobing lights of police cars surrounded the area and chaos seemed to be wreaking havoc in the background. Just as she was starting to tune in her attention, she heard the front door open. The sound of Yami’s boots lead to the kitchen, where she could hear a mug get set on the counter, then fill with coffee before the pot was put back in place. The sink ran for a short while, then the footsteps drew nearer. Yami walked into view, his mug of black coffee in one hand, and some sort of black bag with drawstrings in the other. As he entered the living room, he made a passing glance at the girl. He looked irritated, to which she wondered whether it was because she had taken some of the coffee or because that was his resting expression. He didn’t say anything and took a seat on the recliner. He set the bag at his feet and looked at the screen in front of them.

Because of his interruption, Xiaoli couldn’t regain her interest in whatever was going on in the news. She was relieved she didn’t have to listen to Yami scolding her about the coffee, but felt a little uncomfortable since he had joined her. He always looked so frustrated and angry, and she was annoyed by his usual three word replies or complete lack thereof. She looked at her coffee, then took a slow sip, her eyes wandering back to the busy screen.

“You enjoy watching ;this kind of thing?” he asked, the reminder of his accent laden through his words.

“Not usually,” she replied, “but there seems to be something kinda big going on. I’ve heard a little here and there at school, too. About these sorts of incidents being connected.“ She looked at him, but his eyes seemed focused on the TV. He had such a serious expression every time she saw him. Sitting in the same room, he was no different. Despite the shadow from his bangs that hung over his narrow, dark eyes, there was a strangely alluring glint that seemed to emanate from them. Realising that she paused a little longer than normal while staring at him, she asked, “Do you know anything else about it?”

Yami leaned back, letting himself relax in the chair. From Xiaoli’s perspective, he didn’t seem too much more comfortable, considering how much leather he was wearing. Even so, he did look a little calmer.

“It seems like the perpetrator is well calculated.” He sipped his coffee, his expression unchanged.

The silence in the room after his comment made more of the televised broadcast audible. The news reporter explained that the case was like many other similar cases before. One scrap of evidence was intentionally planted in the crime scene. B-Roll cut from the reporter to footage of a pile of various pieces of white note paper with black ink written in cursive scrawled neatly atop them. The speaker mentioned how the notes were encrypted with vibrant messages, and even more often dark, almost poetic themes. They were believed to allude to the criminal’s next planned heist, but so far various employed police forces and detectives had no luck piecing together the coded clues. The voiceover elaborated on the language the notes were written in, commenting that certain parts are evident Romanian, but the time period and age of the specific alphabet used were untraceable, having been lost with the ancient libraries of old Romania on Earth.

Xiaoli laughed a little at the next clip of a perplexed cop as he mentioned his thoughts on thematter. He had no clue what he was talking about and it was obvious. “That’s pretty clever,” she mentioned as a close up of the most recent note expanded into full view on the screen.

Yami’s eyes slowly moved to the girl. He had his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, with his hand resting against his mouth. The slightest smile shown from behind his knuckles. “You think so?”

The girl stared at him in surprise. Did she just see him smile? “What?” she asked, shirking responsibility from an honest response. Yami looked away, his eyes trained on the screen once again.

“Nothing,” he hummed. “I just think it’s interesting that you’d feel that way about a criminal.”

The girl’s appeared curious, then confident as she chose how to explain herself. “There’s already enough corruption in humankind, and newscasts tend to portray people and events based on their own biases. For all anyone knows, the bad guy’s the good guy, or the media and cops are falsifying the entire story to make it look like they’re doing their job to protect the people, because nothing interesting happens otherwise and people desperately need reassurance.” She drank from her cup, then looked back to the programme. It seemed as though the report was wrapping up.

“You’re a conspiracy theorist,” Yami stated.

“Not really. I just don’t like cops, journalists, or news channels. They never understand the bigger picture and they leave out important information that could completely change how a situation is handled.” She looked back at him. “They’d be better off minding their own business most of the time.” She found it strange talking with him. Although his contributions were still minimal, it was the most they’d said to one another since she first moved in. “Y’know, I’m glad you’re not one of those weird room mates that rarely appears and never says anything.” Xiaoli looked over to see Yami collecting his things. He stood up and walked past the TV, which had gone onto a new story. He glanced at her after unlocking the door to the basement and paused.

“Interesting,” he said, then closed the door and locked it behind himself.

The girl stared at the space he had been. She blinked, snapping out of her surprise. He may have had something to do or get back to, but did he have to give her such an attitude? She wondered how old he was. Sometimes she swore he was still a moody teen, though he looked more like someone in their early thirties.

“That ass,” she mumbled to herself, then smiled. He did actually talk to her. She’d been starting to think they’d never speak to each other. He always seemed so serious and busy, as if he was always involved with important work. For all she knew, he was the owner or some prestigious company and he did always have work to do. He had already fully furnished his entire home with expensive furniture and decor before she moved in. It was apparent that he had great wealth. She rolled her eyes. Yami was so annoyingly mysterious, but at least some of his behaviour were humourous to her. She grabbed the remote, set her coffee on the table in front of her, relaxed into the couched, then changed the channel.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIO: Hidarri Seburemiji [external link to deviantArt] - https://krazorspoon.deviantart.com/art/TANE-BIO-Hidarri-Seburemiji-702374244?ga_submit_new=10%3A1504392043&ga_type=edit&ga_changes=1&ga_recent=1

** CHAPTER THREE **

With the end of the year approaching quickly, apartments had become scarce. Yami’s half-brother, Hidarri, had already called twenty locations. They all gave him the same response:

“I’m sorry, but we’re no longer accepting applications.”

He sighed, flopping over onto his rickety, worn futon. He rubbed his eyes, reflecting on his savings account. He had been saving for two years in his crappy, one room apartment in order to get into a better place. Even so, it seemed like most management didn’t sound very keen on renting to a guy in his late twenties with little credit and a low paying job.

“My pay’s decent,” he mumbled to himself under his breath.

Two years ago, he moved out of an apartment he shared with a girl he was dating at the time. They lived together in an average two bedroom, one bathroom place in a nearby city, but that had brought about the end of their relationship. The experience lasted a full three years, and for a long time, they both knew they couldn’t make it work.

Before that, he rented a cheap apartment with his childhood friend Toboei, whom he’d also had a falling out. The two had spent five years together, and as time passed, their interests and personalities grew further apart. It had gotten to a point where his friend started arguing with him about certain games and movies, drinks and foods he enjoyed. It was never clear to Hidarri why Toboei’s personality became so irritated. He closed him off from his personal life and stopped being open with his feelings and opinions. It was never clear why, and eventually they chose to go their separate ways.

Since moving out of his father’s house nine years ago, he hadn’t been too fortunate with relationships, renting, or finances. Nevertheless, he kept himself motivated, constantly reminding himself that he knew things would get better. He smiled, ready once again to find himself a new place. The two years he spent living alone had been rough. He was used to the social inclusion, having been brought up with some extended family and a father who readily encouraged those looking to get their feet back on the ground to live amongst them. It was more like a soap opera with all the drama and relationships that built upon those grounds, but within the elaborate social threading, he always felt welcome. He knew it was time he tried to find another room mate for the very intention to build a new friendship. Not to mention, sharing a place and bills with another person would certainly take some stress off his wallet.

He got up and opened his laptop. It was probably better if he started by looked for an opening for a room mate, rather than an apartment. Thinking about it, that may have been a better option in the first place. He pulled up the web browser and searched for a site he’d been told about by a coworker. After finding the local ads, he scanned through them. It wasn’t long before he spotted one that caught his eye.

’28 year old male seeking room mate

2 bed 1 bath 2nd floor apartment with balcony

Card Operated Laundry

Central Air

Indoor/Outdoor Parking

No Pets

Social Environment

Contact Information below’

Hidarri’s eyes lit up. He picked up his mobile and dialed the number, eagerly awaiting the response from the guy who posted the ad. As soon as he heard the greeting on the other end of the line, he started talking, enthusiasm audible in his voice. “Hello? Yes! Hi!” he mumbled sloppily. “Yeah, I found your ad online. Sure, we can schedule… does this Thursday at 11AM work? Awesome Okay.” He smiled through his words. He was feeling more fortunate, already. “Yeah, my name’s Hidarri. Oh, Hidarri Saburemiji.” He read off his phone number, then listened to the man verify the time and day for their meeting. “Uh-huh! Sounds great! Thank you! See you then!” He ended the call and sat still for a moment, staring at the screen of his mobile until it went dark.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. He was lucky after all! The ad was straight forward and fit his requirements oddly well. He would talk about rent and other payments Thursday, but for the time being, he was happy. Finally, he had a chance to get back into the life he wanted. In the event that he’d be accepted, he first had to start packing. Looking around his room at the mess of clothes, old grocery bags, empty bags of chips and soda cans, his smile dropped. “Moving sucks,” he said, nudging one of the pieces of trash at his feet.

The next morning, Hidarri got up a little earlier than usual. He didn’t want to look too tired when he met the guy from the phone. After breakfast, he hurriedly brushed his teeth and threw on some clothes. He grabbed his wallet and mobile, then snatched his car keys from atop some papers on the table. Despite having time to spare, he was insistent on being ahead of schedule. The last thing he wanted was to take chances in case he got lost or held up by traffic.

Hopping into the decaying rust bucket he called his car, he set up the GPS feature on his mobile. He entered the address and pulled out of the parking lot. The apartment he was looking for was one city over, so the drive was bound to be about twenty minutes. On his way through the urban strip, he passed the building where he worked in the kitchen as a baker. Sure the job didn’t pay more than a little over minimal wage, but he loved the work and the people. Above all, he loved the fresh donuts and other baked goods and had the belly to show for it. Maybe his lazy, lonely life the past two years hadn’t had too good of an impact on his physique or health. He remembered back in the day when he struggled with his possession problems. Due to the nature of the parasitic soul that often took over to get up to no good, he was always in shape and never had to put any effort into it himself. Of course, there was the commanding consciousness that constantly discouraged him from partaking in long binges of junk food and sugary drinks. Maybe that was why he wound up a little overweight after him and Yami split up. He shook the memory of his half-brother from his head. He was headed for a better life, he reminded himself. He was going to be happy again. He smiled, thinking about the location of his workplace. If he was approved, work would be easy to get to either via car or bicycle. At least that would force him to get a little more active.

Pulling into the main parking lot of the complex, he read the sign to see if he was at the right place. The building was three stories high with off white paneling. Black metal fencing surrounding each balcony and porch, and matching shutters around the windows decorated the exterior. Scattered lamp posts stood about thirty feet from each other around the perimeter of the lot. He parked and got out, not bothering to lock his car, and headed up to the plain front entrance. The panel on the wall was labeled with last names beside the appropriate numbered buzzer. Spotting number 36, he held down the button. Moments later, an electronic sound came from the latch of the door and he took the opportunity to let himself in. Hidarri made his way to the second floor, not paying particular attention to his surroundings. He followed small, numeric signs which directed him to his destination. Pausing briefly in front of the door branded “36”, he adjusted his posture and knocked. For a short while, he heard nothing, then the shuffling from beyond the door, which opened to reveal a fairly tall, thinnish but muscular guy with a silver, windswept fauxhawk.

“Hi! I’m Hito.” He seemed to be in his mid, to late twenties. He smiled at Hidarri.

“Hidarri,” he said, introducing himself again. He extended his left hand, smiling back. Hito shook his hand, then stepped to the side, giving Hidarri room to come in.

“How about a quick tour?” the man offered, hospitably. Hidarri agreed and was directed to the right. The kitchen had a surprising amount of counter space and was extremely tidy. It looked unused. Off white tiles covered the floor in a perfect square, separating the rest of the carpeted floor from the kitchen and dining space. An oven, refrigerator, and dishwasher were lined within the counters. Smaller, seemingly brand new appliances sat atop the counter’s surface, lining the space against the wall beneath the cupboards. There was no dining table or chairs, which Hidarri found unusual.

Hito led Hidarri around the corner to their left. It opened up to a quaint living room with a sectional and a sliding door to the balcony.

“You can see almost the whole town from here,” Hito said. Peeking out the window, Hidarri could identify his workplace. He also noticed a forested area and a couple parks in the distance. Hito then gestured back inside and they followed a short hallway. “On the right is the bathroom, the door past that is a storage room, and over here would be your bedroom.”

As if on cue, Hidarri entered the empty room on the left and looked around. It was spacious with two windows on the far wall. He smiled.

“Nice,” he commented.

Behind him, Hito turned the light to the bathroom on. “This is a little small, but there is a full tub and hot water that lasts a long time.” Hidarri joined him to take a better look. It was a little cramped with two people in the space, but there was still a good amount of storage below and above the sink, where normally a mirror would be. He stepped out from the bathroom and walked back to the open space of the living room.

“This is better than I expected,” Hidarri said. He looked over and through the balcony door. It never took much to satisfy him, but somehow the apartment felt like an especially good fit.

“So, what are you looking at for rent and stuff?”

Twenty minutes later, the two were sitting on the couch talking more casually. The payments Hito expected of Hidarri were plenty affordable, and he assured the other that he seemed so far like a good room mate. From where he was sitting, Hidarri looked at the TV set up on the other side of the room. He decided that he could keep his small television in his bedroom, since there was a nicer one in the living room. Looking at Hito, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would play video games with him. The two talked about their present lives, neighbours, and got into their jobs. Hidarri explained his position at the bakery and how eager he was to start when he got hired.

“Sometimes the hours are a little inconvenient, but I really love the job, so it’s worth it,” Hidarri said, reaching toward the coffee table to grab the soda Hito had given him earlier. The two had begun speaking more informally, but it hadn’t become uncomfortable. The were getting along pretty well.

“Studies have shown that enjoying your job may be more beneficial to your mental health than a job that has optimal hours and exceptional pay.” Hito looked over to Hidarri. It seemed like he was happy for him, or maybe happy to share the information.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that,” the blonde said, then took a sip from his can. “It takes me a little longer than I’d like to save money because the pay isn’t crazy good, but it never holds me back ‘cause I’m okay with it.”

“That’s good,” the other said, then got up. Hidarri got up, too. He could tell it was time to go. They had just spent two hours together. He’d never been to a showing that lasted longer than twenty minutes. Things must have been going well. “I’ve got to start going over applications, now. I’ll give you a call regarding your approval. Sound good?” Hito asked, leading his guest toward the door.

“Yeah!” Hidarri replied enthusiastically. “I look forward to hearing back from you.” He stepped past and opened the door for himself. “It was nice meeting you, Hito.” He gave a final wave.

“Yes. It was nice meeting you too, Hidarri.” They smiled at each other and said goodbye.

All the way home, Hidarri felt optimistic. He was glad to have been able to schedule an appointment so quickly. If things continued going so well, he’d likely be out by the next month. He reflected on Hito, who was really easy to get along with. If they wound up as room mates, they’d sure wind up good friends, as well. He smiled to himself as he drove down the street.


	4. Chapter Four

** CHAPTER FOUR **

Xiaoli finished cramming her books into her school bag and set it on her bed for later. Her Psychology class wasn’t until 8AM. It was 4:15AM, and like usual, she had already been awake for about seven hours. Looking around her bedroom, she spotted an old soda can and empty bag of chips. She pressed her lips together, then got up. Her room was fairly disorgaised, but not grossly so. Most of the clutter surrounded her laundry basket in the corner of the room and atop her computer desk. Trash in hand, she left her room.

On her way back from the kitchen, she noticed someone sitting by a small fire outside. Although his back was turned, she recognised Yami in the dim, early dawn light. With her curiosity peaked, she thought for a while. She didn’t know they had a caged fire pit. She couldn’t help but crave toasted marshmallows, an old favourite. Xiaoli returned to the kitchen, grabbed a bag and some metal shish-kabob sticks, then returned to the back of the house and let herself out the sliding glass door. Her room mate didn’t turn to acknowledge her. She moved the other chair from the porch to the small bonfire and took a seat. After unclipping the bag, she pulled out a marshmallow and pierced it with her poker. Extending her arm, she positioned her marshmallow above the glowing embers at the base of the pit. Careful not to let her treat touch the flame, she slowly rotated the stick. Yami had unsurprisingly said nothing, and when she stole a glance at him, she noticed that he was staring up at the moonlit sky. Xiaoli turned back to stare into the fire.

“It’s nice living with someone who shares the same schedule,” she said, keeping an eye on her marshmallow. The pale man continued to quietly watch the stars fade behind the atmosphere. Xiaoli waited, but accepted the silence as a sort of agreement. She had enough experience with Yami to know that if he didn’t want to hear what she had to say, he would simply get up and leave.

“How long have you been out here?” she asked, prodding for a response.

“A few hours,” he replied, his subtle accent like velvet in his voice. The sounds of the wood crackling with the flame and the chirping of distant morning birds played a melody around them.

The girl nodded, noting how pleasant the early fall weather was. It must have been a perfect night for a fire. The dew from the grass soaked the soles of her shoes as she leaned forward to get a better look at her marshmallow’s progress.

“Hey Yami, where did you move here from?” She couldn’t help but inquire for information. It felt long overdue.

After a short pause, he said, “I moved into this house nine years ago from a few cities over.” The man said, his posture unchanged. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his long legs extended and crossed at the ankle. The dew had coated his black leather boots, droplets catching the orange flicker of the fire. He may have been sitting there longer than a few hours. Xiaoli squinted at him. Did he think she was stupid?

“I mean, where are you originally from? I’ve never heard an accent like that before. Most of the people around my age don’t even have an accent, since we’re first generation natives here. I can hear my parents’ Chinese accent, and the accents of my professors, and other middle aged people, but no one else really. My guess would be you’re from somewhere in the southwest hemisphere.” She pulled the marshmallow away from the fire and inspected it; it was toasted to perfection.

“You wouldn’t be familiar,” he said dismissively.

“Try me,” she insisted.

“Bucharest, Romania.”

Xiaoli paused. He was right. Geography certainly wasn’t her strongest study, but she at least knew the basics. She could list the continents, countries, and subdivisions of most countries. “Where’s that near?” she conceded, hoping for some clarity.

“The Black Sea.”

“Yeah,” she said, giving up. “I’ve never heard of it. Sorry.” To redeem herself, she handed Yami the extra poker she had with her and readily equipped it with a fresh marshmallow at the end. The older man looked at her inquisitively. He took the stick by the wooden handle, which was already too invasive to ignore. He looked back at her suspiciously.

Xiaoli watched him as he turned to face the fire pit, then positioned the poker with the marshmallow directly into the fire. She looked on in disbelief as seconds later, the marshmallow turned black, then burst into flames. Yami seemed unfased by the occurrence, and continued to burn the treat until it became molten, then dripped off from the poker in globs. The girl wasn’t sure if she should say anything as he stuck the end of the stick into the ash and coals at the bottom of the pit.

“You could’ve just told me you didn’t want one!” Xiaoli said, laughing. He had such a strange way of making a point.

The two of them sat quietly for the next thirty minutes. The consistency of the fire was maintained by the older man rearranging and adding a log or two. During another span of calm, Yami moved forward, grabbed the handle of his poker, and withdrew it from the hot embers of the fire before leaning back casually in his seat. With one arm relaxed on the rest of the chair, he propped his other up by the elbow and took time to gaze into the red hot end of the metal poker.

The girl at his side couldn’t help but notice. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, studying his appearance for a moment. He onlywore dark clothing, almost always in monochrome. He was fond of black leather bootcut pants and she never saw him without his laced, matching shin high boots. He had on a black pinstripe dress shirt and dark grey V-neck shirt beneath it. He had a sharp stare, and in his deep purple eyes, there almost seemed to be a glint of red around his pupil. It must’ve been the reflection from the red metal of the poker. Sitting there, he seemed distant, disconnected from reality in a way she couldn’t relate. She considered the peculiar dynamic of his interest in the burning hot metal. Perhaps he was some kind of sadist or masochist. He fit the generic profile and some personality stereotypes, especially with his simple or unsubstantial replies. Was he some sort of leather daddy dom, or something? She lifted her eyebrow with curiosity. Yami was so odd.

“How old are you, anyway?” she asked.

“I’d say early thirties,” he answered vaguely, keeping his eyes fixed on the dimming orange tip of the poker with an otherwise bored expression.

Xiaoli’s eyes widened with surprise. “Has anyone ever told you that you act older than you look?”

Yami shot her a cold stare from the side before replying, “Has anyone ever told you that you act like a child?”

A silence came over the two. In the moment, it almost seemed like the birds even quelled their chirps. All that remained were a few pops and crackles from the fire in front of them. Ash lifted up toward the brightening sky, the darkness disappearing behind the horizon with every minute. Xiaoli pressed her lips together and squinted at her room mate. She then burst with laughter and threw a marshmallow at Yami, which hit him gently in the chest before falling softly to the grass. He looked back at her.

“I can’t believe you, sometimes,” she said, her laughs letting up. “You’re really funny, you know that?” She giggled, sticking another marshmallow with her poker, then bringing it to the base of the flame to toast.

Yami gave her a judgmental look, turning to glare at her head on. “You’re not helping your case,” he mumbled, then turned his stare to the treat she had begun toasting. He looked vaguely interested.

Xiaoli noticed his expression. “What, now you want one?” she asked, fumbling around in the bag with her free hand to offer him another.

“No.”

“Then why are you looking at mine like that?” she retorted, rotating her stick.

“It’s,” he began, considering his word choice, “interesting.” He lowered his poker.

“You say that like you’ve never toasted a marshmallow before,” she said, laughing a little. Yami forced his eyes back to the fire, choosing to avoid any more expressive displays or implications.

“Holy shit!” she breathed, withdrawing her fourth, perfectly browned marshmallow. “You haven’t, have you?”

Yami again said nothing. The girl couldn’t believe it. She’d never met anyone so unadjusted to life’s little pleasantries before. Reacting quickly, she extended the end of her metal poker toward Yami, the hot marshmallow within his reach. He looked at it, then her as if to discourage her from picking on him.

“Try it,” she demanded, sternly.

With furrowed eyebrows and a look of protest, Yami pulled the cooked marshmallow from her stick. He inspected it for a few moments, then put the whole thing into his mouth. With expectancy, Xiaoli waited for a review.

“Well? Do you like it?”

Yami finished chewing before responding. He looked dissatisfied, as if he expected it to be even more delicious than Xiaoli felt it was. “It’s fine.” He at least appeared satisfied with the experience.

“Fine?” the girl repeated. “Your first perfectly toasted marshmallow ever, and that’s all you have to say?” She sounded offended, but was merely playing around.

“Yes.” He put his poker back into the ashes and she withdrew hers to cook another for herself.

“That’s disappointing,” she said. “For some reason, I keep thinking you might actually give me a substantial reply, but you just crack out your one to three word answers.” She sighed, staring into the fire.

Again, they sat quietly, taking in the sounds of the dawn as the smoke from the fire ascended and dissolved into the air. Xiaoli was a little frustrated with Yami, but she also didn’t feel like pushing for more information. She figured it wasn’t that important or necessary. She watched him subtly from the corner of her eye.

The atmosphere was pleasant. It wasn’t long before the sun became visible in the sky, blanketing everything in a warm, golden hue. Xiaoli finished her marshmallow and clipped the bag closed. She looked at the fire thoughtfully, a smile across her lips.

“Do you usually spend time outside at this hour?” Yami asked, his tone flat yet interested.

Xiaoli stood up, holding her things. She grabbed the poker she’d given to her room mate, then walked to the back door. Yami craned his neck, awaiting her response.

“Not really,” She opened the door and disappeared into the house.


	5. Chapter Five

** CHAPTER FIVE **

Moving day had finally come for the single, blonde man. He had his little, rusty car crammed full of his belongings to the point where he could only see out the front and side windows. It was peculiar how he managed to fit everything in such a small vehicle. Then again, he didn’t own much in the first place. After bidding farewell to his crummy old apartment, Hidarri hopped into his old car and headed for his new home. Twenty minutes or so later, he drove into the parking lot of Hito’s apartment complex and parked.

Hidarri looked up to see his new room mate on the balcony. Once out of his car, the tall guy waved to get his attention. “Hey! Hito, could you toss the key down?” He opened his trunk and started shuffling boxes around.

“Give me a second, I’ll be right down to help!” The grey haired, sporty man went back inside. It wasn’t long before he appeared on the ground floor and walked over to where Hidarri had parked. “Yo!” Hito greeted casually, peeking into his new acquaintance’s car. “It doesn’t look like you have as much as you said on the phone.”

“Yeah, I guess it could be worse.” Hidarri unsnapped the bungee chords fastening his futon to the roof of the car. “Could you help me with this?”

Less than an hour later, Hidarri sat exhausted against the couch in his new home. The breeze from the open balcony door had done well to help cool him off. The wind blew in softly as the tan man finally caught his breath.

“Do you need something to drink?” asked Hito as he came into view from the hallway.

“That would be great!” Hidarri replied, exasperatedly. “You don’t have any beer, do you?” He laughed, giving his forehead a quick wipe with the back of his hand.

“Um,” he looked back at Hidarri, almost as if he wasn’t sure of his response, “I drank it all?”

“Damn… That’s okay!” The guy on the couch snapped his fingers. “I’ll go pick some up for us!” He got to his feet and grabbed his keys from the coffee table. “What kind do you want?” he asked, smiling.

“Whatever is fine.” Hito watched his new room mate make is way to the door. “You know, you don’t have to.”

“Yes I do!” Hidarri chimed back, we gotta celebrate today!”

Later that night, Hidarri had finished setting up his room. He already had his futon pulled out and made for the night. His dresser was stocked with clothing. The windows on the far wall were open, letting in the refreshing fall air. He had taken the time to put up a couple posters, one of an attractive female model, the other a forest that opened up into a glade with a small creek. He’d even set up his small potted plant on the end table beside his bed and below the window.

Standing in the kitchen, Hidarri called out to the other, “Where’s your table?”

“My table? I have a coffee table in the living room and an end table in my bedroom.” He walked over to Hito, who was loitering in the kitchen with confusion on his face.

“Oh. I guess I mean your dining table.”

Hito scanned the dining room space, which was very spacious and open. “Well,” he began, “I usually eat out. Or I eat on my way to work. I never needed a dining table.”

“Huh.” Hidarri nodded, accepting the believable excuse.

The truth was, Hito could eat, but had no need to. He didn’t have any organs, let alone a digestive system. He was built with an internal mechanic similar to a food processor, but of course he had no ability to absorb nutrients. He didn’t need them. His system was solar powered, unlike the human organism. He didn’t need to drink liquids, either. Conveniently, he was programmed with the ability to impersonate slurred speech and the imperfect mobility humans have while intoxicated. Suffice to say, the engineers that designed and built Hito took everything into account when it came to programming and modeling him to blend in with the rest of society.

Making use of the time it took his room mate to consider life in a table-less apartment, Hito opened the door of the refrigerator and withdrew one of the cold beers Hidarri had returned with. “Hey Hidarri, did you want one now?” Hito extended his arm and looked up at the other.

“Yeah, thanks!” Hidarri said, grabbing the bottle from his new acquaintance. He unscrewed the cap ant pointed toward the fridge. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a few kinds. That one’s actually pretty good apparently. The shopkeep told me so,” he added, gesturing to the drink Hito kept for himself.

“Thank you.” Hito opened his drink. “I hope they’re right!”

“Let me know how it is.” Hidarri took a long drink and smacked his lips before exhaling with relief. “Ahhh! That hits the spot!” He chuckled and headed back to the living room.

Hito, who paused due to a lack of response, followed him shortly after. He had no ability to taste, of course. It would be obvious if he tried to describe the flavour using only randomised adjectives affiliated with tasting that were stored in his hard drive. It was best to avoid the subject, he decided.

Hidarri leaned back against the couch. He took another long drink from the bottle and kept it in his hand. It was a sign that he wanted to drink it quickly. Hito sat beside him.

“What made you choose to move out from your old apartment?” the silver haired man asked, looking at his drink more observantly than with thirst.

“Oh,” Hidarri lowered the bottle from his lips as he skimmed over the past couple years in his head. “It’s a long story, although it’s actually kind of a short one.” He looked at Hito, wondering if he’d still be interested. There at least was a way to simplify his explanation. He was met with an intent gaze, which was enough to prompt him. “My girlfriend broke up with me a couple years ago, so I packed my stuff and moved into a crappy, cheap one room place. Mostly I meant to stay there for just a little while, but I only managed to save enough money and motivate myself to move out from there a couple months ago.”

“I see,” Hito interjected, seeming to have connected a few dots in his head.

“Yup.” Hidarri took another drink. “My last place wasn’t the worst. It was kind of like my bedroom at my old man’s place. The thing I couldn’t stand about it was how far away from people I felt. I never lived alone before that. It was probably the worst couple years of my life, and I’ve had a pretty crazy life!” He laughed, reflecting on a few events in particular that were almost impossible for most people to wrap their minds around.

“I can kind of understand that,” his room mate said, nodding at Hidarri. “I really like being able to report my research and talk to my coworkers.”

“Your research?” Hidarri repeated, curiously.

Hito looked from the other to the drink in his hand. “Yeah… I study sociology in my free time, and my aunt and uncle are kind of like neuroscientists. We talk about the social dynamics of formal and informal relationships and everything in between.”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool. That makes more sense.”

“What do you mean?” Hito asked, looking a little as if he’d been found guilty for something.

“I would’ve been a little surprised if you were some kind of fancy scientist guy.” Hidarri caught himself and put his hands up defensively. “N-not that you couldn’t be, just that I wasn’t expecting it.”

Hito laughed. “Haha, no. I’m not a scientist. I’m more like an experiment.” He chuckled to himself at the irony of his comment, but watched to see if Hidarri picked up on the joke. His new room mate simply laughed with him, and was otherwise aloof. Even though he wasn’t about to drop his guard, it was a relief that he didn’t have to be too calculated with his word choice and programmed self expression around the guy.

“Hey, Hito?” Hidarri asked, speaking up again.

“Yes?”

“What is your job, anyway?” Hidarri casually drank his beer.

“I’m a Hazardous Material Specialist. I handle dangerous waste and chemicals,” he replied, proudly.

“That’s intense. Is that where you got that weird scar?” Hidarri pointed to Hito’s left arm, where the skin tone in a wide diagonal shape didn’t match his natural skin tone.

Because Hidarri was so informal about it, Hito chose to behave likewise. He lifted his arm and looked at it, then gave Hidarri a better view. “Yes! That’s from a clumsy accident where I spilled battery acid on myself.”

Hidarri’s eyes widened. “Ouch! Don’t you wear a protective suit or something?” He sipped his drink, interested in Hito’s explanation.

“I did have one on, but the acid burned through the fibres of the suit.” He laughed, reviewing his files on how complex the situation had become. He had to hide the incident from his employers, made an excuse for needing a new suit, and had to visit the scientist’s lab, rather than the hospital, for some precautionary mobility tune-ups and synthetic skin grafts. “I’m fine, now. That’s what matters.”

“I hear you.” Hidarri related. He stood and walked to the kitchen to replace his empty bottle with a new one. “I used to have a lot of scars from a lot of different injuries, but I didn’t really have much to do with most of them.” Hidarri’s voice trailed off as he opened the fridge. He then called over, “You want another beer?”

Hito checked his bottle. He had opened it, but hadn’t drank any. He still needed to report the flavour to Hidarri. He stood up and walked out of the living room and into his bedroom. At his computer, he was able to look up a description of the taste from a review written by an alcohol connoisseur. “No thank you,” he called back. “I haven’t started mine, yet.” He typed in the search tab.

Hidarri closed the fridge door. “Really?” He walked back to the living room with his drink. “You better hurry before the night’s over!”

After an informative search, Hito closed the web browser and left his bedroom to rejoin Hidarri in the living room. Due to the content of Hidarri’s last personal contribution, he couldn’t help but feel the need to gain clarification. He sat down on the couch.

“What do you mean you used to have a lot of scars?” He took his first sip.

Hidarri, however, paused mid-drink. “That, uhh,” he lowered the bottle from his mouth. “That’s a longer story, and it’s confusing.”

“That’s alright. I’ve never heard of organic skin being able to regenerate, other than imperfectly.” Hito closed his eyes for a moment, appearing to be concentrating. Behind his eyelids, his Computer Processor selected a programme set to a timer. The programme was coded to run his motor skills at a steady, predetermined decline until reaching a preset low, which could be perceived by most as a state of inebriation. He opened his eyes again, then took another drink. “I’m curious.”

Hidarri stared at Hito, looking conflicted. He sighed and said, “Okay, but you’re going to have to keep an open mind.”

“No problem,” Hito assured.

Hidarri took another, much longer drink, exhaled, then leaned forward in his seat. He stared at his new room mate.

“Okay! Have you ever heard of Tamashii no Kisei?”

“No. What is it?” Hito inquired. He seemed genuinely interested.

“Basically it’s a soul that lives off another person, kind of from within the mind. There are different strengths that have been recorded in old medical facilities. The strength of the parasitic soul, or Tamashii no Kisei, in the past has usually been mild. A lot of them were mistaken for personality disorders. There aren’t more than a couple recorded cases that do a good job explaining research on people who actually had something like that.” Hidarri looked ahead of them, into the dark screen of Hito’s TV.

“That sounds like a difficult thing to differentiate,” said Hito, seeming deep in thought.

“Yeah. I think it’s probably harder to tell if the soul is weaker.” For a moment, Hidarri sipped his drink. He looked to the right, taking in the view of the darkening sky outside the balcony doors. The fallen leaves rustled against the pavement outside. He turned back toward Hito and pointed to the beer in his hand. “You might want to drink a little more,” he said with a strange smile on his face.

Hito shrugged, but complied. He lowered the bottle and nodded at Hidarri, encouragingly. He was very inclined to hear more. The more he learned about human complexities the better. “Come on. Keep talking!” he urged.

Hidarri’s eyebrows lifted, shocked by the other’s curiosity. “Alright! But this is where stuff gets weird.” He took a breath.

“So, when I was a preteen, I started to hear an unfamiliar voice in my head. I used to have a good imagination, so I didn’t think much of it, but as I got older, I realised that the voice I could hear encouraging me to make bad choices and stuff wasn’t something everyone had. Long story short, it was a Tamashii no Kisei, but this one was extremely strong. His soul was passed down through my mom’s family’s genes since E1918, starting from a defect in the DNA of a man from an ancient Earth country called Romania. Anyway,” He said, stopping to take a quick sip before continuing, “the guy’s soul caused a lot of devastation between then and now. He manipulated a lot of different people throughout my mom’s family, but only had heavy influences over the men. Throughout the decades, he got stronger and stronger. He pretty much got so strong that he could gain control of my movements by the time the Tamashii no Kisei got passed down to me. He could even alter my DNA so that his own actual physical features came out.” Just reflecting on the guy he considered his half brother was starting to frustrate Hidarri. He leaned back and sighed.

“So, is this thing still a part of you?” Hito asked. He worried that his new room mate was more than he bargained for.

“No.”

“And what about the scars?”

“Oh yeah,” the blonde said, getting back on track. “Well this parasitic jerk was a criminal through the manipulation of others, and has a really bloody background. Actually, most of his hosts were sentenced to death back when that was a thing, then later locked up in high security prisons. But by then, he had already slipped out of their bodies, and into the body of the convict’s child. So when he had made it to me, he knew exactly what he was up to. He got into fights after taking control of my body, and basically didn’t care if he got stabbed, cut, shot, or broken up because it’s not like he had to feel it 24/7. All the injuries my body got because of his fights stuck on me.”

“Okay. But then, why don’t you have them, now?” Hito pressed.

“Right! So, uh…” Hidarri reflected on his past social life, before he moved out from his dad’s house. Back when he shared a bedroom in the basement with his old best friend, Toboei, the complicated teenaged neko, Noroi, his niece Taki, and his dad. He always seemed to have friends around, back then.

“Well, this asshole in my head,” Hidarri took another drink, then continued what seemed to be turning into a slight rant, “wound up basically in love with one of my good friends, which made our friendship really weird, if you can imagine.” He looked away, obviously uncomfortable with some of his memories.

Hito, who’d had plenty of time to finish his drink, tried to understand the connection to the original question. “Sure, but what does that have to do with the scars?”

“Oh, um. Him and my friend Rinku were dating and they got pretty serious. They saw each other when I got possessed, basically.” Despite seeming to be struggling with the clear details of the past, he continued, “So, when Rinku got amnesia, he couldn’t deal with it. It really messed him up. He tried to shoot himself in the head.”

“Wow! That’s rough,” Hito said, expressing as much empathy as his processor allowed.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t his body, and he wound up splitting our souls. He got stuck in a state of near-death in my body, or what was my body, and my soul left the body, since I was stuck in the frozen consciousness.” Hidarri looked at his beer bottle. “This sounds a lot more unbelievable aloud.”

“It’s okay. I’m following it so far,” Hito reassured.

“That’s good,” he laughed. “I’m actually having a hard time.”

The two of them laughed, lessening the slightly awkward atmosphere. Hidarri stood from the couch and made his way to the kitchen. “Want another?” he asked, gesturing to his bottle as he walked away.

“Sure!” Hito replied, making sure to be enthusiastic.

When Hidarri came back, he explained how his father had connections with a prestigious scientist and how, through the help of alchemy and a few close friends, they were able to mend the parasitic soul to the scarred, old body, and his own to an organic replica created with preserved stem cells.

“I only have one scar, now.” Hidarri placed his palm flat over his heart.” My heart was the last surgery the Doc performed on my body.

“Now I get it!” Hito chimed, pulling his drink from his lips. “That’s an incredible story! I had no idea! And I’ve heard of that lab, but I didn’t know the scientists there took part in something so impressive!”

“Yeah! If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t be alive! Those guys and my family saved my life!” Hidarri theatrically forced Hito into a cheers. Their bottles clinked together and they took gracious, long drinks.

Hito lowered his drink, his processor highlighting the missing data, then asked, “What happened to the parasitic soul guy?”


	6. Chapter Six

** CHAPTER SIX **

Xiaoli closed the door to her home behind herself with the force of her frustration. During her Psychology class, she had been paired on a project with another girl. She had her long brown hair in low buns, brilliant green eyes, fair skin, and a sort of hipster fashion. The girl was clever and sharp, but sensitive and nice, not to mention extremely pretty. Ten minutes into their assignment, Xiaoli had developed a crush on her.

She sauntered through the house and made her way to the kitchen. After opening the cupboard, she grabbed a glass then opened the liquor cabinet and filled it with soda and vodka. She relocated to her bedroom to drink and work on assignments. With the passing of a couple hours, Xiaoli had become considerably buzzed. She managed to finish her work, programmed an auto-scheduled cache clearer on her computer and even tidied her room. In the kitchen again, she took a seat at the table. She had just set her third cocktail on the table when she heard the front door unlock and forcefully swing open. Heavy footsteps entered the foyer. The door then slammed shut. Yami made his way to the kitchen, failing to acknowledge Xiaoli. He stopped in front of the liquor cabinet, pulled out a glass, filled it with a clear alcohol from an unmarked bottle, then drank the full glass before refilling it again.

At the spectacle, the girl lifted an eyebrow. “Rough day at the office?” She forced her smile to subside. Sometimes watching her room mate was like watching a TV show in his subtlety or blunt nature. His timing always made for dramatic effect. All things considered, she had never seen him so frustrated before. He shot her a glare, but it was just his usual expression.

After pausing for a moment, Yami walked over and sat across from her. Xiaoli looked on expectantly, deciding to use the opportunity to find out more about him. The pale man sipped his drink, staring off to the side. What could have gotten him so worked up, she considered.

“What’s up with you?”

Yami set his drink down and met her stare before responding with a short and tense, “Complications.”

Xiaoli shot him a judgmental look. Like hell he was going to get away with a short answer like that again. She’d had enough of his “cool guy” attitude. It was time for some depth. She opened her mouth, but before she had the chance to speak, he asked, “What’s with you?”

The girl’s mouth hung open for a moment. She didn’t expect him to ask her about herself. He’d never shown much interest in her life, whatsoever. She stared into his dark eyes, then said, “Complications.”

Yami took another long drink. “I doubt it’s that complicated,” he said, looking irritated.

“Tch, like you’d know!” she retorted, and drank from her cup.

Yami’s eyes seemed to analyse her. He’d heard the attitude in her voice. “Really?” he provoked.

“Yeah!” She leaned back in her wooden chair. The two stared at each other for no more than a few seconds before Xiaoli couldn’t stop herself from spilling her issue. “There’s this girl in my Psychology class.”

“Oh,” Yami interjected, his expression shifting to a demeaning smirk.

Xiaoli straightened up in her seat suddenly. “Shut up!” she exclaimed defensively, hooking the other’s attention. “You don’t know how it is!” The girl relaxed her posture, reflecting on her and the classmates few interactions from earlier that morning. “She’s so,” she started, only trailing off when her imagination took advantage of her mind. She caught herself and shook her head, then pressed her palm against her forehead.

“So, you have a thing for her.” Yami said, effortlessly. His lack of hesitation and directness caught the girl off guard.

Xiaoli frowned at him. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already accepted her crush on the girl. It was just that having a crush on another girl brought up a lot of hassles.

“She might not be interested. You know…”

“Are you going to bring her back here?”

“What?” Xiaoli shouted, grabbing her cup protectively. “It’s not like I’ve even spent time with her outside of class!” Yami said nothing, but Xiaoli felt like he was forcing her to explain herself. “She’s probably not even into me.”

Yami leaned back, taking a slow sip. Xiaoli’s franticness amused him.

“She’s probably already seeing someone,” she added with a frown, then quickly drank the rest of her beverage.

“You’re frustrated,” Yami stated, knowingly. For some reason, it seemed like he understood the situation better than Xiaoli herself.

The girl pressed her lips together as she watched the other finish his drink and get up to refill the glass. On his way, he grabbed her empty cup and filled it with a much greater ratio of vodka than soda. Returning to the table, he gave the drink back to his room mate. He took a seat, and the neutrality in his expression began to grate on the girl.

“Thanks,” she said, suspiciously. Yami seemed to be acting pleasant, and the abnormality of it made her a little uncomfortable. She sipped her glass to show her gratitude, and felt the last of her sobriety begin to slip away. Holding her cup with both hands, she stared into the liquid vacantly.

“Are you going to spend your night moping like that?” the pale man asked, judgmentally.

Lifting her head, the girl squinted at Yami. “Yes!” she asserted stubbornly. “I am!” She let go of her cup and folded her arms over her chest. “Unless you have advice, which I doubt. You’d probably suggest glaring at her and saying nothing. I bet you can’t show even the slightest bit of affection. I bet you have no idea what to do in this situation.” She turned her head away in defiance.

“I do.”

Xiaoli looked back at Yami in surprise. “You do?”

“Bring her over.”

With a sigh of defeat, Xiaoli’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t just invite her over, Yami! We haven’t even hung out outside of school.”

“Call her.”

“What? Right now?” she shouted nervously in alarm.

“She gave you her number,” he commented, smiling subtly. Despite barely saying anything, he was evidently getting the girl very worked up. It made her a little more attractive to the man.

Turning her head to the side, Xiaoli tried to hide a blush that covered her face with guilt. “Well, she didn’t actually give it to me.”

“You looked it up?” he determined with a chuckle. “You couldn’t have just asked?”

“No! I mean,” she shook her head, trying to translate her thoughts into word. “We barely know each other.”

“You could get to know each other through conversations.” Yami shrugged. “I don’t really care, but what’s the point of having her number if you never use it?”

“Well,” Xiaoli paused, getting caught up in her head.

“I’ll call her for you.” Yami pulled out a sleek black mobile from his pocket and lifted it as if to dial.

“No!” Xiaoli shouted, shooting up from her chair and trying to grab his phone. Yami swiftly retracted out of reach.

“Relax. I don’t have her number,” he said cooly, chuckling at her desperation.

“God dammit, Yami!” Xiaoli exclaimed stiffening her posture as the other shrugged her off. She sat back down. “You can’t just say stuff like that!”

“First you complain when I don’t speak, then you complain when I do.” With his usual stern expression, she couldn’t tell if he was just picking on her, or if he was actually offended. He stood up to refill his glass. He seemed ready to leave. “You probably don’t even know what you’d do with yourself if she was here,” he said, casting her a devious glance as he left the room.

“That’s not true!” she shouted toward the other’s disappearing back. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going! I’m talking to you!” The sound of the basement door closing, followed by descending footsteps was her only response. She turned back to the table, sulking at her full glass. “What an ass!” she mumbled to herself. Yami had refilled it for her, but had left shortly after. Was he really ditching her? It was getting light outside. Maybe he was going to bed. She looked forward at the curtain covering the window above the sink. “How lame.” Just then, she heard the muffled sound of running water. She wondered why he was taking a shower when they had woken up in the evening. Rolling her eyes, she dismissed the question. That man held too many unexplained curiosities, and more were added to the list weekly. She decided she’d look up Bucharest, Romania next time she was online so at least one of her questions had an answer.

Less than a half hour later, Xiaoli found herself loafing around in the living room flipping through TV channels and sipping the last of her mixed drink. She felt defeated. Originally, she wasn’t going to get drunk after Yami left, but she was almost driven to in defiance against her more rational judgement.

Convinced that she was the only conscious person in the house, she laid across the couch. She was nursing her fourth drink, since she had already become considerably intoxicated. She usually slept after returning home from college, but she felt restless. Her next class wasn’t until Thursday morning, so she allowed herself to be more carefree. Staring into the television screen, she let her mind wander to her classmate. Fairly involved with her fantasy, Xiaoli didn’t even notice Yami enter the room. He looked at her curiously, a subtle grin on his face.

“That’s elegant,” he commented, gesturing to her posture with a replenished glass of alcohol.

“Xiaoli straightened herself up. “Like I care what you think,” she sassed back, then stopped short. She stared at the older man’s bare chest. Yami stood shirtless at the entrance to the living room. His black leather pants were low on his hips, and his long dark hair was pulled back in his usual style with beads of water dripping off occasionally. She tried to look away, but couldn’t help but stay fixated on his upper body. Scars covered his skin from the shoulders down, with the exception of his arms. She identified the shape of a few on his left shoulder and right of his abdomen as bullet wounds. There were a few long, thin scars where his skin seemed to have been stitched back together. Another two wrapped themselves over his right shoulder and around his left side, and dug in much more deeply than the others. She couldn’t place what could have caused their wide, jagged shapes. Maybe a spiked sword. None of the injuries seemed recent, but she cringed at how painful they must have been to endure.

Finally able to pull her eyes from his body, Xiaoli looked up and met his stare. He watched back, indifferently.

“What?” he asked casually, as if having a slew of scars decorating his torso was completely normal.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ What the hell happened to you?” she blurted, unable to keep her retort at a reasonable volume. She watched the man stare back at her with his sharp eyes. He sipped his drink, taking a moment to choose a response.

“I’ve been in some fights,” he admitted honestly, then took a seat near her. Xiaoli kept her sight glued to him as he leaned into the couch.

Up close, she could see the depth of the lacerations. The bullet wound on his left shoulder must have chipped away some of his collarbone, as it dipped lower than the line of the surrounding bone. The same was true for the unusual scar coming over his right shoulder. Her gaze followed across his chest and to his almost completely unscathed arms and hands. Yami had two sets of black tattoos wrapping around his wrists and upper arms in wide bands. As he had taken his seat, she noticed two similar pairs of disconnected wide, black lines on his shoulder blades, fanning out from his spine at 30 degree angles. Her eyes followed down his muscular chest, past his impressive abs, where she read the foreign words “VIAȚA ETERNĂ” in bold, stylistic font. One of his stitching scars lead past the waist of his pants, and she had to stop herself from gawking any lower. She looked over his posture and overall appearance. When she brought her vision back to his face, she realised he’d seen her checking him out the whole time. Yami relaxed his tense gaze and gave her a subtly sly expression.

“Are you disgusted?” he asked, a strange depth in his voice.

“No,” she answered quickly. “I’m just surprised.” She turned her head away from him. “I didn’t know.”

“There’s nothing more to know,” he concluded, trying to get past the discomfort in the room. Deciding to push a different subject, he asked, “Did you call her, yet?”

Xiaoli raised her hands defensively. “What? No!” she exclaimed. “I’m not going to call her tonight!” Putting her hands on her lap, it was obvious her mind was racing.

“Why not? Do you think you’d do something,” he paused, smugness laden in his words, “regretful?” He peered over to her, leaning in as he did so.

“How many have you had, Yami?” Xiaoli asked, realising how unfamiliar he was acting.

“Some,” he replied vaguely. “What matter is it of yours?” Putting an arm over the backrest of the sectional, Yami lowered his chin. His dark, narrow eyes looked down on her.

Pressing her lips together, Xiaoli quelled an immediate response. She tried to keep herself together, but burst out in laughter, “You’re drunk!” she accused, then nudged him in the shoulder. Yami seemed put off by the gesture for a moment, but didn’t chastise the girl.

“You’re one to talk,” he said, his attitude more evident in his tone than usual.

“Me?” Xiaoli scoffed. “I’m fine,” she plead, only appearing more guilty in her attempt to brush him off.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question!”

“Are you afraid to call her?” he reiterated.

The dark grey haired girl frowned. Yami was persistent with his prying about her classmate.

“No, I’m not afraid.” She tried to seem confident in her response, but contradicted her words by shifting her vision downward. She could feel Yami’s analytical stare. Having lived with him for almost half a year, the girl knew exactly what he was up to. She looked back up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t judge me! You don’t even know what I’m thinking!”

Yami pointed to the coffee table in front of them, holding eye contact. “Right there,” he stated.

Xiaoli broke away to look at the table, then back at her room mate with embarrassment. “What are you talking about!” It must have just been a coincidence that he pointed to the place she had been imagining herself getting intimate with the girl from her Psychology class. It had to be.

“It’s a little too low to the ground,” he critiqued.

“For what?” she asked defensively. There was a glint in his eyes. “Stop giving me that look!”

“Don’t pretend you’re so innocent.” Yami said with a smooth voice. “I know.”

The sureness in his voice convinced Xiaoli in that moment that somehow Yami knew every immoral thing about her. She stared into his eyes, realising that it made no difference to him if she was in fact a little out of the ordinary. He didn’t care if her behaviour didn’t fit some category of pre-approval from society. Yami was no representative of an average community member. She squinted at him, feeling like her subdued personality no longer needed to be a front worn around the man.

“Fine,” she finally said, crossing her arms. “By the way, the height of the table would work really well for going down on a girl.” She watched the long withheld grin on Yami’s face spread across his lips.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said proudly.

“You want me to admit my fantasies to you?” she asked, a little surprised. It wasn’t as though she expected Yami to be prudish, but she certainly hadn’t expected him to be so open about sexuality.

“You had much time to think while I was downstairs. Why not share?” he replied, leaning a little closer to her. The girl looked back at him, suspicious of his intent.

“Yami!” the girl said forcefully. “Are you coming onto me?” The epiphany came to her suddenly.

The man leaned back slightly. “You don’t have to sound so offended.”

Since Xiaoli wasn’t romantically interested in her room mate, she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. Before she was burdened with pressure, Yami added, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just saying you’d look pretty good leaned back over a table.” He gave her a seductive look and pointed a thumb toward the coffee table. “Maybe a little taller than that.”

“Come on!” she shouted, brushing him off. “A taller table?” She looked around the room, feeling creative. “The shower’s fun,” she said, reflecting on a particularly enjoyable time.

“Who hasn’t done that?” Yami retorted, he looked uninterested.

“Wow, I didn’t realise I was trying to impress you, oh great expert of unique sexcapades,” she toyed.

“If we’re going for unique or complex places, I found a rooftop to be worthwhile.”

Xiaoli laughed. She was a little shocked at how honest Yami was being. “The rooftop?” she repeated, trying to imagine it. “How would you even have leverage and stability?”

“It works quite well, actually.” He thought for a moment, an attractive gleam in his deep purple eyes. “The texture of shingles can add to the excitement.” he said, turning her way with a suggestive grin.

“You’re like a phone sex ad,” the girl said, discrediting his serious attitude. “Do you even know how you sound?” She grabbed her cup and took a drink, feeling the other’s eyes trying to pierce her humour.

The older man wasn’t used to being taken so lightly. He could tell she still fell into the control of his words, but for some reason he didn’t have his usual edge when speaking with her. Frustrated, Yami replied, “I doubt you’ve got a single creative idea.”

Xiaoli gasped with exaggeration, “Yami! How could you be so cold?” She stood up and began glancing around the room, as if to find something to use against him. Her stare stuck to the front window. She then turned to look at the other. “Against the front window. No blinds,” she said feeling clever. She was proud of her suggestion, which was evident by her indiscreet, sultry expression.

Looking on with peaked interest, Yami said, “That’s not bad.”

Having felt the encouragement of the otherwise stoic, leather-clad man, Xiaoli’s creativity sparked. She grinned at him, then looked over the room again, more slowly. Her sights stopped on the closet in the hall near the kitchen. “Have you ever had someone in a closet?”

Yami paused, noting the more personal direction she had taken the conversation. “Not at my place,” he replied.

Xiaoli imagined Yami stuffed in a closet, surrounded by jackets and minimal lighting. She looked away from him, but as he stood up, she couldn’t help but take another vertical inspection of him. Even in a relaxed pose, the scarred man seemed to have a certain type of intimidation in his presentation.

“What about the front porch?” he asked with a grin.

“That would probably be easy to get away with while most of the neighbourhood sleeps,” Xiaoli replied, thinking more in depth about his idea. “A park would be fun.”

“Not nearly as fun as a chapel,” Yami said, reflecting on one of his deeper memories. The moonlight had been leaking in through the stained glass mural windows as he and his partner got intimate in the pews.

“Holy shit! You actually didthat?” the girl stared into his dark eyes. Maybe she misjudged him. Maybe he was the type of guy to get with as many people as he could cram into each week. Judging by the confidence he exuded in his posture and speech, it wasn’t unlikely that he’d had a lot of hook-ups. She wondered if he’d ever had any deep, more romantic relationships. He never alluded to it before. He didn’t talk about himself much as it was. He really didn’t seem like the type.

“Have you ever gotten caught?” she asked, walking to the centre of the living room for a better vantage point to identify places to get physical.

“Never. And I never will,” his eyes shone with unquestionable seriousness, pulling Xiaoli’s attention toward him as if through a strange allure. It was at that instant that Xiaoli decided to play around with the overly confident man. She walked toward the hallway, making sure to send an enticing look Yami’s way.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re too good at thinking on the spot to get caught.” She smiled at him with a seductive tone in her voice.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” The man straightened up and took a few steps forward, being sure to appear uninterested as he followed her lead. “But what about you? How do you plan to entice this girl of yours?” Yami walked past Xiaoli. “Are you planning the old overnight and a shower routine?” he asked, pointing a thumb in the direction of the nearby bathroom as they walked in the other direction. He gave her a critical expression.

“Brutal, Yami.” The girl turned toward the sliding glass doors. She remembered that she didn’t care about Yami’s approval. What mattered to her was the banter between them. That, and the alluring expression on the older man’s face. She wouldn’t mind seeing more of that. She leaned against the door, returning the expression.

“How much action has that porch seen?” she asked, staring into his eyes as he approached her. She could tell he was buying into her game.

Yami walked toward Xiaoli, stopping just in front of her. “Not nearly enough,” he said in a low tone.

Their eyes connected for a moment and Xiaoli saw an opportunity. She made a small, forward gesture and asked, “What about your bedroom?” Pretending she wasn’t as curious as her question implied, she took a step away from Yami, then moved toward the kitchen. She had her drink in her hand, as did her roommate. She figured she’d give him an opportunity to drink more if he’d like.

“That is my business,” he stated. Followed by the girl’s mild but noticeable hip sway, the dark haired man entered the room. When she turned to see him, she smiled. Despite his cool guy attitude, he was still a little predictable in that aspect. She was having fun seeing to what extent she could persuade him.

Upholding his casual poise, Yami set his glass on the counter. He leaned against it, but it wasn’t clear whether it was because he was trying to uphold his demeanor or maintain balance. Xiaoli, on the other hand, finished her drink and set it beside the sink to deal with later. She strolled over to the dining table and arched back a little, being sure to do so in a sexy way. She watched as Yami looked her up and down. Was he making it obvious on purpose? He smiled at her, deviously.

“What?” Xiaoli asked, accusatively. She clasped her hands beneath the tabletop on either side of her and inspected the surface space over her shoulder. “Hm,” she hummed, through a knowing grin. She turned back to face her roommate, then let her own eyes wander his body. In a way, the scars and accents made him even more intense. She slowly returned her eyes to his. He was tall, whereas she was short. The table came up to her butt, and on him his thighs. He couldn’t have been thinking about that back when they were talking about the coffee table.

“No,” Xiaoli said softly, looking between Yami and the table. “This isn’t…” Their eyes met as Yami moved toward her, looking cocky.

“This is exactly what I meant,” Yami said smoothly, closing the space between them.

Before Xiaoli could open her mouth to reply, she felt Yami lean into her gently. The table pressed against her from behind but her eyes were focused on his lips, persuasive as he asked, “Do you still think the coffee table is a better option?” He peered down into her golden brown eyes, placing his hands on either sides of hers.

Even though Xiaoli knew she’d been thinking about her class mate and her getting intimate on the coffee table, she couldn’t bring herself to point out his misunderstanding. She could feel the desire in the atmosphere and she was too deep in it, herself.

“I don’t know,” she said coyly, “I guess you’ll have to show much just how much better this is.” She leaned forward and lifted her chin as she closed her eyes to kiss him. She felt his hands around her waist, and pulled back. He gave her a look of disapproval. Xiaoli lifted herself up and sat on the table, her legs spaced apart enough for Yami to move between. As she leaned in, she felt the dampness of his hair against her forehead. Their lips connected. Yami wasn’t wasting any time. The girl slid her tongue along his. She was eager and in the mood, and the man was undeniably attractive. She nipped at his lower lip and felt a slight smile. Before she could move her mouth to his neck, her roommate pulled her pants down past her hips. She hadn’t felt him unbutton and unzip them. A blush spread across her cheeks, realising at that moment that he knew exactly what he wanted and wasn’t bothering with subtlety.

“Do you have a condom?” Xiaoli asked. She felt weird asking her room mate, but she had to. She also felt strange touching him, but she was drawn to him. The alcohol in her system softened the edge of the situation, and she was feeling incredibly handsy.

“Yes,” he moaned lowly, continuing to pull her pants off.

Xiaoli lifted her legs to assist him, then heard her clothes fall to the floor. She felt seductive, sitting there on the table in just her bikini style underwear and tight halter top. Seeing the look on Yami’s face reinstated her confidence. She reached over and put her hands on his chest, ignoring the texture and indents of his scars as she ran her palms downward. Her fingertips traced over his defined abs, then to the button of his leather pants. As she unzipped his fly, he leaned forward and ran his teeth over the base of her neck. Xiaoli flinched, feeling something sharp, but dismissed her concern as she was leaned back. She propped herself on the table with her arm, trying to lean against him for another kiss. Romance or not, there was something undeniably enticing about the man.

“Are you some kind of dom?” she asked, her breath hot upon his lips. “Is that what you do when you go out in the night?” She ran her thumb along his waistband.

Yami chuckled, apparently amused that she would jump to such conclusions. “Some nights,” he said, playfully. He became distracted by her hand finding its way into his pants.

“Nights like tonight?” she added, smiling up at him. His eyes were dark purple with specs of violet and what she must have imagined was red around his iris. She’d never been so close to see. Somehow his eyes seemed unreal. She stared into his gaze, searching for what made his eyes so unusual to her, but regained her focus as she took the man’s cock into her hand.

Using Xiaoli’s hesitance to his advantage, Yami pressed his body against hers. He ran his tongue down her neck, supporting himself with one hand flat on the table beside the girl.

“Holy shit!” Xiaoli shouted abruptly. “You’re hung!” She let out an excited laugh and put her other hand behind Yami’s neck. He appeared surprised by the move, but didn’t pull away. Xiaoli kept her hand on his dick, making sure to run her fingers from the base to the tip in one slow motion. “I feel like I should’ve guessed that,” she said. For a moment, it seemed like his cheeks had turned a bit red. She must have been mistaken, because when she took a second glance, she was met with a hot, intimidating stare.

“Oh come on, Yami!” she said, “I’m just, I never got to play with something so big, before.” The alcohol circulated through her blood, telling her there were no repercussions for her words. She knew she didn’t have to second guess herself. She reveled in the slight differences in Yami’s expressions. Even if she wouldn’t normally speak to him that way, she was enjoying herself. “Hold on,” she said, trying to stop giggling. She moved off the table. “I’m gonna need some lube,” she managed between giddy chuckles. “I’ve got some in my room!” Her voice trailed off with hurried footsteps. She soon returned and hopped back up onto the table.

“Have you managed to pull yourself together?” Yami asked, looking a little frustrated as he leaned back into the girl.

Xiaoli smiled, moving in toward his neck, and kissed him. “Yes,” she replied, the sound eagerness in her voice, “my shit is together, thanks.”

Yami pushed Xiaoli onto the table, returned his hands to her waist, and pressed his lips against hers. “Good,” he said under his breath, “I have a natural tendency to lack patience.” He moved against her, just their underwear separating them. For a moment he backed off to pull a thin, square packet from his pocket. He tossed the wrapper aside and pulled the condom over his erect dick. Xiaoli watched with anticipation in her eyes. She didn’t question why he was so prepared, and simply smiled as she handed him the lube.


	7. Chapter Seven

** CHAPTER SEVEN **

Ten O’clock rolled around by the time Hidarri had finally gotten himself out of bed. He stumbled out of the bathroom, still topped with bedhead and drowsy eyes. Scratching his stomach, he walked into the kitchen for a glass of water. Hito perked up when he noticed his roommate had woken up.

“I thought you were going to sleep all day,” Hito said with a chuckle. The lively man was sitting on the couch dressed in athletic clothes. The television was set to the news in front of him.

Hidarri groaned lazily and made his way to the couch to join him. “It’s before noon,” he mumbled defensively. He took a seat. “What time did you get up?” he asked, prepared to call the other out for hypocrisy.

“I’ve been awake since six,” he said with a smile. “I go for a run every morning, as long as the sun’s out.”

Hidarri realised Hito was one of those health-conscious go-getters. No wonder he was so fit. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. The morning sun is refreshing,” he added, then looked back to the broadcast before them.

“Not that refreshing.” Hidarri turned his attention toward the TV. The topic seemed to be regarding a felony committed at a prestigious museum. He listened more closely, his mind adjusting to consciousness. It was a theft and a murder that was still under close investigation. There were only a few disjointed leads, despite the original case opening a couple months ago. Hidarri abruptly popped out of his seat.

“Actually, I’d love to head out. The sun is just what I need!” He hurried out of the living room, grabbed his keys from the hanger, then opened the door.

“Hidarri, you’re not dressed!” Hito said, reaching out as if to stop him.

The tall blonde looked back at his roommate, then down at himself. Hito was right. He was still only clad in a pair of blue boxers and a white T-shirt. Apparently he was still a little out of it from drinking with Hito to celebrate his move the previous night.

“Yeah,” he said, closing the door. He made his way to his room to put some clothes on.

“Hey.” Hito called from the living room, “If you still want to go out, want to go with me? There are some nice trails I can show you, unless you want to play soccer, or something.” He listened for a response, but could only register some groggy mumbling.

Hidarri hopped on one foot as he pulled on his pants. He grabbed the top of his dresser for stability, then clasped his belt together. After throwing on a clean t-shirt, he pulled a loose hoodie over his head, then stepped into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Meanwhile, Hito had turned his attention back to the news report in front of him. His new roommate was a little abnormal in comparison to the average statistics, but that made acclimating more interesting. He thought to himself, processing the broadcast less as he reflected on Hidarri’s behaviour. It was only a few more minutes before the other man came back down the hall. He didn’t appear more awake than before, but he was making a noticeable effort.

“Let’s stop and get something to eat first,” Hidarri said, walking back to the front door.

The leaves on the trees had begun changing colour. Most sported shades of green, yellow, oranges, and reds. Paths wound through a forest, a few passing over a small creek. There was a gentle breeze in the air as joggers, bicyclists and casual walkers made their way down the beautiful trails. Hito and Hidarri jogged side by side, the taller of the two slowing considerably. Hito took notice and pointed in the direction of an approaching park bench. He stopped ahead and waited for the other to catch up.

“Hidarri,” Hito said, concern worked into his tone.

“Yeah?” Hidarri plopped himself onto the bench the two had stopped near and tried to catch his breath.

“You’re out of shape.” Hito sat beside his room mate and pulled his backpack off. After unzipping the pouch, he withdrew a water bottle. He passed it to Hidarri who took it graciously.

“Thanks for noticing,” he joked, popping open the cap before taking a drink. He lowered the bottle and put his hand against his stomach. “Y’know, I used to be really fit.”

Hito chuckled. “It’s easy to put on weight,” he said, trying to make Hidarri feel better.

Hidarri laughed at his comment. “It’s even easier when you never exercise!” He leaned back, looking up through the colourful leaves to the sky. The sun shone down in rays, flickering softly as the leaves moved with the wind. Light caught in his pale blue eyes. “It’s nice to breathe fresh air again.” A warm breeze passed through the trees, rustling the dry leaves on the ground.

“If you want, you can come with me on my morning runs,” Hito offered, smiling genuinely at his friend.

“I don’t know about that!” He replied with a laugh. “I’d have to find some motivation first.”

The two sat quietly beside the path for a few minutes. Footsteps in the gravel grew louder as a couple young women approached. They giggled to themselves, and when they passed, they looked at Hito. Hito smiled back, encouraging the taller of the two girl’s face to brighten up.

“Hello,” he said casually. The girls said their hellos. Hidarri gave a friendly wave, then watched as they headed down the trail. “Do you know them?” the blonde asked curiously.

“I see them almost every morning here,” Hito answered, seeming proud. “We’ve never really talked, though. Just said ‘hellos’.” He looked a little disappointed as they watched the girls disappear around the bend.

“That’s too bad,” Hidarri said, still staring at the last place he saw them.

“Yeah,” Hito said, the same tone as his friend in his voice. The wind blew some leaves along the gravel past their feet. Hidarri looked over at his friend. He smiled, presumably caught in some kind of appreciation. Hito noticed and looked back. “What is it?” he asked.

“Oh.” Hidarri hadn’t seemed to notice his own expression. “It’s just,” he gathered his thoughts, then continued, “you like girls?”

Hito looked surprised by the sudden question. “Well, yeah,” he answered. “Why?” Hito knew he was programmed to fix a certain kind of attention specifically toward females, although the coding wasn’t unalterable. He had learning software, but his original programme was clear. He looked at Hidarri, awaiting clarification.

“I never roomed with a straight guy before. And when I lived with my dad and all the people we let stay with us, I think I was the only one. Other than my dad.” He paused, then added, “It’s kind of nice that you can, um, look at girls with me.”

Hito gave a small laugh. “I guess so!”

“Wow, now that I said it out loud, it really sounds weird!” Hidarri put his hand to the back of his head in mild embarrassment, then laughed with his friend. Calming himself, he sighed and said, “Well, should we get back?” He stood and capped his water bottle. “We still have a long way to walk.”

“Yeah!” Hito said energetically, contrasting with Hidarri’s lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s go.” He joined Hidarri and they walked back toward the parking lot.


	8. Chapter Eight

** CHAPTER EIGHT **

Xiaoli stirred on the couch. A grumble escaped her mouth as she lifted herself up to a seated position. With the blinds closed and the living room in its usual state of darkness, she had no idea what time it was. She was quick to realise that there was a raging hangover pounding away inside her head. Her vision slowly cleared as her senses returned to her. She needed water desperately.

Bracing herself, the dark haired girl slowly got to her feet, then felt it. She paused in place as the soreness triggered memories from the previous night. She and Yami had fucked. The were drunk and it was fantastic. She stood up, collecting herself, then headed to the kitchen. As she filled her glass, she listened for her roommate’s footsteps. She was almost sure Yami wouldn’t have gotten the wrong idea. Even so, she’d rather avoid any confrontation while she housed such a crude headache and reacquainted herself with the motions of her aching hips and thighs. Glass in hand, Xiaoli made her way down the hall to grab clean clothes and to shower.

Downstairs, Yami sat up in bed. He put a hand to his head. Dark spirits didn’t usually give him a hangover, but he wound up drinking much more plum brandy than he intended. He clicked his tongue, criticising himself for getting sloppy and losing a little control. He slid his legs over the edge of his bed and cursed.

“Shit,” he grumbled lowly, collecting himself. He didn’t have any preplanned responsibilities for the day, but he still felt too disorganised. He stood and walked to the bathroom to clean up.

Xiaoli opened the bathroom door, a plume of steam floating out as her feet tread softly on the hardwood floor. She wasn’t feeling as anxious about crossing paths with her roommate as before, and her headache and overall soreness had lifted considerably.

Dressed in clean clothes, she walked toward the kitchen. Contemplating whether or not coffee was a smart idea, she passed the living room. The television was on, but she didn’t comprehend anything past the flickering of the screen. She found herself in the kitchen. The cold water from the refrigerator filled her glass. On her way back, she spotted Yami on the couch. Their eyes caught for a moment before his turned back to the TV. Despite his usual demeanor, somehow he looked a little less stiff.

“Hey,” he said, being the first to acknowledge the other. Yami didn’t look like he’d had a hard night of sex and drinking. He was dressed in his usual black leather pants and matching monochromatic shirt.

Xiaoli took the recognition as an invitation and sat on the chair by the window. “Hey,” she replied, her voice quieter than she expected.

The two stayed silent in their separate seats for a few minutes before the girl suddenly spoke up. “Okay, you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?” She thought her word choice in such a conversation would have been more compassionate. Startled by the abruptness of her own question, all she could do was stare at the man.

Despite the urgency in the girl’s tone, Yami looked back at her calmly. He analysed her discomfort and the tenseness of her posture. She seemed to be holding her breath as she waited for him to say something. He chose to take his time and watch the desperation in her expression.

The stoic and serious look on his face in addition to the silence clung to the atmosphere around the girl. “Because I don’t feel weird about it,” she added, trying to lessen her anxiety by filling the room with dialogue. “Honestly, I feel pretty good about it. I mean, it felt great last night. Like, the way you,” she stopped herself and got back on track. “But if you feel something else about it, then I, we, I mean, we don’t have to do that again.”

“Xiaoli,” the man finally said, stopping her from more uncontrollable rambling. “It’s fine.”

“Huh?” She didn’t register his response.

Yami leaned back in his seat. “It was nice, but I’m not interested in you romantically.” He looked at the TV, reading the footer as it scrolled past.

“Oh.” Trying to calm herself down, she repeated his words in her mind. She shook her head, as if to shake out her lingering doubts. “Good!” She exaggerated her relief with an eccentric sigh. Yami shot her a glare.

“Keep your voice down,” he grumbled, putting a hand to his head as he sipped his coffee.

The girl grinned at him from across the room. Mr Cool wasn’t fine and dandy after all; Yami was hungover. She looked him over again. Originally, she interpreted his posture as his usual confident, dominant demeaner, but now that she wasn’t caught up in paranoia, she realised he was actually sinking into the couch in a rather sloppy position.

“Yami, you don’t look so good,” Xiaoli said in a mockingly concerned tone.

“I’m fine,” he said.

Xiaoli noticed the subtitles were up on the TV and the audio was muted. So, it was that bad. Yami caught her observing the situation.

“Mind your own,” he added, leering at her from the corner of his eye.

The girl chuckled. She felt like the two of them could relate in more ways than before. It seemed like Yami was acting more human.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You don’t drink that often, do you?” Leaning back into the chair, she smiled. It felt good to be in better shape than her roommate after a night as intense as the last. Maybe he wasn’t as perfect and calculated as he acted.

“Have you ever drank more than one bottle of brandy?” he retorted, almost in a mumble.

“That’s what you had?” Xiaoli laughed, “Why would I do something so dumb?”

“I hold my liquor better than you.”

“I don’t have a debilitating hangover.”

“You just had vodka and soda cocktails.”

The girl bit her tongue. He had her there. She looked at the mug of black coffee in front of Yami. “No water?” she asked, changing the subject. The man said nothing. He leaned forward and picked up his mug, bringing it to his lips. He took a slow sip while holding eye contact with her. He set the mug back on the table.

“No.”

Xiaoli sighed with exasperation, frowned at him, then started laughing. “You’re impossible.”


	9. Chapter Nine

** CHAPTER NINE **

“You know, Trevin, you could move in with me,” the young woman said, prompting her moody friend to give her around the clock company.

A scrawny, pale young man looked back at her with dismay through his choppy black and red bangs. “I’m not living in this dump,” he asserted, sliding his finger over the rim of his soda can.

The two sat in the middle of an apartment living room. A few lawn chairs and one lamp were sporadically left around the room. The rest of the furniture had long since been sold off for quick cash in desperate times. The woman’s parents paid for the rent, in addition to the water and electric, but nothing more. Refusing to get a job, she did what she could do scrounge up money without doing any real work.

“Like living behind dumpsters and under park benches is better! It’s free here. It’s perfect for you! Maybe you could chill out and get an early job or something.” Concern for his well being was evident in her voice, although it was hidden behind her usual tinge of of irritation.

Trevin rolled his eyes and sighed. It was annoying how persistent she was. He couldn’t help but feel like she just wanted him around to bring in a some income. “Whatever,” he mumbled.

A tall man walked from the hallway into the kitchen, his clay toned skin and messy black hair dimly lit and smooth from the single lamp. Dressed only in ripped skinny jeans, the man flipped on the light switch before disappearing around the corner. He could be heard opening a cupboard and grabbing a bag of chips. The girl turned away from their company and back toward the younger man to groan. “Yeah,” she said. “You’re better off not moving in.” She pointed at the guy in the kitchen and added, “You’d have to put up with this loser.”

The boy looked toward the other room. Dezlo was her boyfriend. He too was unemployed, although he did make fairly good cash illegally selling drugs around town to people without prescriptions. Trevin watched as Dezlo grabbed a beer from the fridge. With his chips and drink, he took a seat in the poorly kept dining room and propped his feet up on the cheap kitchen table.

“Cut me some slack, Hotaru,” the man said.

“I’m out of slack, Dezlo. I don’t have any more left,” the girl said back.

Trevin sipped his soda. The two were always arguing. They didn’t have a healthy relationship. Even so, Dezlo was always around. At some point, he seemed to decide that he didn’t need to go home at all. If it wasn’tfor his connection with the head of the drug cartel in a nearby city, Hotaru probably wouldn’t have allowed him to stick around.

“Yeah, yeah.” The older man cracked open his beer and took a noisy sip.

Hotaru grumbled in annoyance. “Ugh! I can’t stand him sometimes!” Every moment Trevin spent around the two, he could feel the tension in the air thicken. He never understood why they still dated, let alone lived together. He only asked his friend once about it, and got a short, “He just never left,” as an answer. It seemed like it was only a matter of time before she got too fed up with his lazy mooch attitude and kicked him out for good.

“Yeah, I’m not moving in,” Trevin’s point was clear and the subject was dismissed with a casual reminder that if he ever needed a place to fall back on, he was welcome. Despite the consideration of his friend, the boy couldn’t see himself relying so strongly on another person. If he did stay with her, he figured it wouldn’t be long before she started asking for favours, or arguing over idiotic and useless things like how it always was with Dezlo.

“I wouldn’t complain if you moved in, Squirt!” Dezlo said, flashing Trevin one of his annoyingly attractive smiles.

“Like I give a shit what you think,” the younger boy said quickly. “And don’t call me that.”

Trevin had turned nineteen in June. He was one year younger than Hotaru, while Dezlo was twenty six. Even though he was the youngest of the three, he often felt like he was more mature than both of them. He ignored Dezlo’s laughter. That was how the two often put up with each other. Hotaru, on the other hand, didn’t have the ability to brush things off. Her issues with the older man had been piling up since he moved in.

“Whatever,” Dezlo said, his mouth full of chips. “I know you’re just saying ‘no’ to rebel.”

“Shut up Dezlo!” Hotaru asserted loudly, stopping him from provoking her friend. “You’re an ass, you know that?” The girl shook her head, then turned back around to finish straightening her line of white powder.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, dismissing his girlfriend again.

Trevin got up and walked to the window. He played with the shutters, thinking about how he might make more money in the next couple days. Being homeless wasn’t too challenging, since he’d already been on his own for three years. He knew the tricks on the streets, what he could get away with in dark alleyways and abandoned buildings. He had gotten fairly good at looting, pickpocketing and lock picking. Most of his monetarily rewarding jobs, as he called them, were more disgustingly shameful and demeaning.

The rain was coming down softly, but the boy slid the door open. He stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind himself. Dezlo watched from inside as Trevin pulled out his cigarettes and smoked, unfased by the rain dampening his hair and clothes. He looked at Hotaru, who had just rolled a little square of paper into a tube. She leaned down and sniffed up the cocaine in one smooth take. After a moment, she sat upright and exhaled shakily.

Hotaru and Dezlo did drugs daily as a rule. They mainly made use of marijuana, ecstasy, speed, and mushrooms. More recently, Hotaru had been dabbling in cocaine and heroin. The two somehow split the cost, although in desperate times Dezlo managed to bring in more money somehow. It was him who kept the pantry stocked with food. He wasn’t as needy with their recreational drug use as his girlfriend, and they always did well to include Trevin with more casual drugs.

The red haired girl didn’t bother cleaning up after herself, considering she was likely to go back for more later. She had become content enough to stand up, balancing in a way reminiscent of a ballerina, before prancing out of the living room and into her bedroom. She was going to make her usual effort to get dressed up.

Once she returned from her room, Dezlo grabbed his beer and chips and moved to one of the lawn chairs. He crunched a handful of chips and stared at the wall as if waiting for something to happen. Almost as if on cue, Hotaru strutted into the kitchen wearing ripped leggings, a net top, some punk accessories, and very short red shorts. She spun on her heel before making her way into the living room. She flopped onto the ground near Dezlo. The man lit himself a cigarette and took a long drag before smiling down at the girl.

“Feeling frisky?” he asked, a suggestive tone in his voice.

Hotaru rolled her eyes, but put her arms around his neck, kneeling in front of him. He slid his hands from her waist to her butt and kissed her. “I love it when you’re doped up,” he moaned. Hotaru pulled back, and without hesitation she slapped him. She stood and pointed a furious finger at his face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she shouted. “You’re the biggest fucking asshole I’ve ever met!”

Having little time to react, Dezlo straightened his posture. “Taru,” he whined, trying to encourage her to calm herself or stop shouting. In many cases, she just had to let off some steam and getting slapped was nothing new to him. He couldn’t help but expect the situation to be no different.

“Don’t ‘Taru’ me!” she yelled, slapping the bag of corn chips he was holding out of his hand. The orange chips flew out from the bag and made a mess across the floor. “I’m so sick of your shit! How can you sit there and eat that crap right now?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, “did you want me to argue back? Or agree with you?” He puffed his cigarette. “You’re right, Taru. I’m a cunt, but it’s not my fault that I think you’re more willing to fuck me when you’re geeked!”

“Shut up! I hate it when you say that!” Her angry eyes began welling with tears, and the two became more invested in the high emotion of their heated argument.

From the other side of the door, Trevin could hear the two yelling aggressively at each other. He remained indifferent, instead focusing his attention on the sound of the rain coming down on the pavement. He exhaled smoke and watched as it dissipated in the chilly humid air. He’d have to go in and console Hotaru when things finally mellowed out. He flicked the butt of his cigarette onto the parking lot, then quickly lit another. It was best to wait it out. Being around the two as they fought was too uncomfortable. He tuned out the noises from within the apartment. Outside was his home, after all. He had grown accustomed to the sounds of the city and weather.

About a quarter of an hour later, the boy was soaked. He had walked around the block a couple times, after becoming too wound up from standing in one place for too long. That was one of the few side effects of his upper. During his early days on the streets, he met a crafty but very helpful man named Ollie. He was a sort of mentor to the boy while he learned city survival skills. It didn’t take much persuading to get Trevin into the drug after being convinced that it would heighten his level of awareness, which he needed to keep him quick on his defenses in more dangerous areas. It had also given him a strong case of insomnia. Trevin didn’t mind his lack of decent rest. He found it useful once he adapted. It gave him more time to pick the streets and make money. It also gave him less time to be in a defenseless state of sleep.

Snapping out of his train of thought to the sound of a door slamming, Trevin turned and peered through the rain drop freckled the window of the glass porch door. He could see his friend standing in front of the door that led to the apartment hallway. Deeming the situation safe enough, the boy walked inside and shut the door behind himself. He could hear Hotaru sniffling and catching her breath.

“Hey,” the boy said quietly, redirecting her attention tentatively from the unresponsive wood.

Hotaru let out an exhausted, sad sigh. “Well, that’s the last we’ll be seeing of that,” she paused, troubled with her thoughts, “asshole.”


	10. Chapter Ten

** CHAPTER TEN **

A couple towns over, Xiaoli sat in her Psychology class as her teacher droned on. Her eyes wandered over to the back of the brown haired girl’s head. She had a hat on, but her two loose braids fell below the hemming. Having already finished the work for the upcoming week, Xiaoli let herself lose focus from the class discussion. She wondered what Tora did with her spare time. She was a timid girl at school, but didn’t hold back when answering questions. She had a thorough understanding of advanced psychology. Tapping the eraser of a pencil against her lip, Xiaoli drifted in her thoughts.

Just as she was about to start chewing on her eraser, the green eyed girl turned to face her. Their eyes locked and Xiaoli’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Her mind refocused to take in the sounds of her surroundings. The class began fidgeting, gathering their belongings and relocating to other parts of the room. Apparently another partner project had been assigned while she was zoning out. Did that mean she and Tora were partners again? She stared at the girl, watching her in a sort of dream state as she approached Xiaoli’s desk.

“Hi,” the girl said in an eager tone. She took a seat and opened her book to the chapter they’d been referring to.

“I’m so sorry,” Xiaoli replied, embarrassment in her voice as she finally took responsibility for her consciousness. “I sort of spaced out for a minute.”

“That’s okay, the pale girl said back, “I already finished most of our assignment before he assigned partners.” Tora looked at her paper, which had Web and Venn Diagrams scrawled atop of it, as well as a good variety of notes.

“Wow,” Xiaoli said, then immediately felt lame for having nothing to say now that the two were finally talking. She remembered what her room mate had said about her not knowing what to do if she ever got close to Tora. She couldn’t let him be right! Besides, she was too interested in the girl to let the opportunity slip away.

“If you have trouble with this kind of thing, I could help you. You know, at your place or something.” Tora smiled kindly.

“Really?” Xiaoli chimed, completely surprised by her suggestion. “That would be awesome!” She caught herself, realising that she sounded like she sucked at psychology. In truth, she had the completed assignment tucked in her folder. She’d have to redo some of the work she’d already finished if she wanted to convince her classmate that she did actually need help. “It’s just a little difficult to, um,” she paused, trying to decide what to pretend she had trouble with.

“Differentiate between micro aggressions and nonverbal harassment?” Tora asked, trying to help the other girl straighten out her thoughts.

The older girl tried to hide a chuckle. She actually lived with someone who gave her constant and natural examples of both on a daily basis, or at least as often as they saw each other.

“Yeah,” Xiaoli agreed hesitantly, giving a suspicious smile through her teeth.

“I can help. Not to sound boasty or anything, but I’ve got all this stuff figured out pretty well.” Tora smiled back, proud of her accolades.

“What,” Xiaoli asked, “Is all you do study psych?” she chuckled, lightening the seriousness of her comment.

“Actually, it’s a lot of what I do.” Tora leaned forward, crossing her arms over her book, then lifted a hand to twirl some loose strands of her silky golden brown hair. “That and study fantasy.” She looked back and smiled shyly. “What about you? Do you get into anything like that?” Tora asked, prodding her partner for more lengthy responses.

“Sort of, if you count RPGs. I play a lot of games and most of them are fantasy or sci-fi.”

Making good use of their time together in class, it wasn’t long before the two had gotten to know each other. They had completed their assignment and officially passed the qualifications of acquaintanceship. Xiaoli and Tora agreed to sit beside each other during class for the remainder of the semester, brushing off the decision by highlighting the lack of other interesting people in class as an excuse.

Class went by much more quickly while the two chatted quietly. Before they knew it, they had made plans for the upcoming weekend. Xiaoli went home smiling. She made it to her bedroom and threw her bag on her mattress, then walked to the kitchen. She spotted Yami leaning back in the kitchen chair, a newspaper pulled apart before him. He lifted his eyes to meet hers.

He didn’t have to say anything once he saw her expression. Xiaoli smiled at him. He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward to set down the paper.

“Hey,” the girl said casually, a provocative grin on her lips.

Twenty minutes later, Xiaoli’s wrists were bound with the end of Yami’s black leather belt, the metal clasp closed on the other side of the door as her room mate pounded his hips into her thighs.

“Ah! Holy shit Yami!” the girl panted, pulling on her restraints.

The muscular man kept his hands beneath Xiaoli’s legs as he repeatedly thrust into her. He breathed heavily, though his breathing still seemed somehow controlled. He leaned in, the longer strands of his hair falling gently onto the girl’s shoulder. Xiaoli craned her head to the side and did what she could with what little freedom she had to arch her back against the wooden door.

The two had been seeking each other out for sexual relief since their first drunken night. It had only been a few weeks, but they had gotten comfortable with each other very quickly. At one point, they started competing with each other in an attempt to outdo their last sexcapade. Xiaoli was pleased to learn that her leather clad roomie was actually well versed in kinky sex. They fooled around with bondage, vibrating toys, and subtle sadomasochism. Yami was always invested in topping, which was fine with Xiaoli. She thoroughly enjoyed the sex, and that was all there was to it.

The door shuddered behind her as Yami thrusted feverishly. The girl pulled more, her wrists losing circulation at the tightening of leather. She bit her lip. He was a good fuck, she had to give him that. She reveled in her own desperation and adrenaline and felt her muscles tighten as her climax quickly approached. Yami moaned lowly, seeming to be close to his own release. His black fingernails dug into her thighs, but his pace was perfectly controlled as he repeatedly hit just the right spot. Xiaoli’s body trembled and tensed, unable to hold herself together. Amidst uneven gasps, she let out a loud, powerful moan, reaching her orgasm. Within a few extra thrusts, Yami had his. His grip softened beneath her legs and they both took time to catch their breath.

A few minutes later, Xiaoli’s feet were on the floor and Yami’s belt was back around his waist. Still in uneven breaths, Xiaoli said, “You’re really something.” She had meant the comment to come off as a casual compliment, but because of the irregularity of her voice, it just sounded odd. She looked up at Yami, then backed up, secretly leaning against the wall to support her instability. Yami lifted a hand to his forehead, then ran his fingers through his dark hair. He was smirking. Xiaoli instantly regretted the compliment. Apparently, just knowing he was the cause of her state of sexual disarray was enough for the man.

“I know,” Yami replied smoothly.

She hated how calm and collected he was after sex. It made her look so sloppy. She reared back and punched him playfully in the shoulder.

“Alright, big man. Don’t let it go to your head.” She laughed, playing with the elastic on her green and black underwear.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, rolling his eyes as he turned from her before heading for the stairs.

Xiaoli frowned, then laughed to herself. She opened the door to her room. A shower before bed sounded fantastic. She rubbed her sore wrists, she had to make it a quick one; she was exhausted.


	11. Chapter Eleven

** CHAPTER ELEVEN **

Five O’clock rolled around at the bakery. Looking up at the minute hand on the kitchen clock, Hidarri took a deep breath. He pulled off his apron and tossed his hat to the side table.

“That’s it!” he said, gathering his keys as he prepared to leave for the day. He walked past a couple coworkers and waved as they bid him farewell. “Have a nice night, guys!”

Since it was mid Autumn, the sun set earlier in the evening. The tall blonde stepped outside and was greeted by a soft, cool breeze. He walked to his car and only stopped to watch a few dried out leaves skip across the sidewalk in front of him. Since Hidarri was hired as a baker, he didn’t usually have shifts that kept him until the shop closed, unless he was covering for a host, waiter, or cashier. They had enough fresh food and baked goods to last the final couple hours, and then the closers would take care of the leftovers, or occasionally sneak them home. The man got into his car and twisted the key in the ignition, then backed out of his parking space.

After making it home, he hung his keys on the wall, grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, and flopped onto the couch. He let out an exhausted sigh. Hito popped his head out from around the corner of the room.

“Hard day at work?” the silver haired man asked. He disappeared back into his room.

“No,” Hidarri said. “Just glad to be back.” He looked out the window. The weather was still a little humid, but colder than it had been the past few weeks. “I think I caught a cold.”

“Oh no!” Hito said, almost excitedly. “It’s not very bad, is it?” He appeared again, then went into the kitchen.

“I don’t think so, but I’m starting to get a runny nose, and I’m kinda congested.” He looked toward the kitchen and tried to make sense of the sounds coming from Hito’s direction. It sounded like he was starting to make something on the stove. He sat still for a moment, then got up to set up a video game. “I’m gonna get Melee playing if you wanna join.”

“Sure, I’ll be in for the second round!” Hito called back.

Hidarri grabbed his wireless controller and sat on the floor. He coughed into the sleeve of his hoodie, then selected single player competition mode. He picked his favourite character and relaxed, waiting for the randomised opponent and stage to load.

“You’re sure it’s not that bad of a cold?” Hito peeked into the living room. He had a tendency to make eye contact every so often, almost as if to visually check in with the person he was talking to. Hidarri had started thinking it was because he wanted to make sure the person he was talking to didn’t suddenly inexplicably vanish.

“Probably not,” Hidarri said, then watched the TV screen as the count down to combat began. He sneezed abruptly, allowing the computer player to land some hits. “Aw man!” he whined, then retaliated with his own string of attacks.

Hito laughed at his room mate. “Those are basic cold symptoms.” He went back to the stove.

“What?” Hidarri asked from the living room, focused more on mashing buttons, despite being unable to strategise or coordinate a pattern for attacks with his thumbs and index fingers.

“Sniffling, coughing and sneezing.” Hito poured the hot soup he’d made into a bowl with a spoon and brought it out with him. He set it on the floor next to Hidarri and grabbed a controller for himself. “That’s for you.”

Hidarri looked at the soup and then at Hito. “Really?” he asked, smiling with pleasant surprise.

“Yep!” Hito watched the TV where his Hidarri’s character was assaulted rapidly until mercilessly knocked out.

The opponent did a victory taunt as the announcer proclaimed, “K.O.”

“Dammit!”

“Alright, you and me.” Hito sat up straight and put on his concentration face. Hidarri reset the game and looked at his friend.

“It’s on!”

A few hours later, shame and embarrassment had overcome Hidarri. He lost every single match against his room mate. He put down his controller and set his head in his hands. “I can’t believe you!” he exclaimed in defeat. “You’ve been practicing.”

“I’ve actually never played this game before,” Hito chuckled, exiting the combat menu. He brought the screen back to the main menu, then placed his controller back by the console.

“What?” Hidarri lifted his head to peek at Hito. “You’re kidding.”

Hito smiled with an expression he usually wore when he wasn’t fibbing. It was a look he gave when he knew how good he was at something. “Hey, you know what else is good for you?” he paused, allowing Hidarri enough time to respond if he had any answers. He then said, “Smoothies. We should go get some!” Hito stood up.

Hidarri watched the man from where he sat lazily slouched over on the floor. “Smoothies?” he repeated curiously. “Why smoothies all of a sudden?”

“Because you’re still sick, and fruit is good for you; especially fruit with a high percentage of Vitamin C,” Hito stated casually.

“But I just had soup, and colds take a while to go away. I can’t just keep eating stuff and expect it to go away.”

“Are you still hungry?”

“Kind of.”

“Then let’s go!” Hito headed toward the kitchen to put on his shoes.

Hidarri got up to get himself ready. “You’re so weird,” he said, zipping up his hoodie.

“I’m pretty standard, based on average objective male personality statistics.” Hito grabbed his keys.

“Except when you say things like that,” Hidarri laughed as he tied his laces.

After a short drive, the two stood in front of the menu in a shop called Sammy’s Chill.

“What are you getting?” Hidarri asked, unfamiliar with the list and quirky names.

“I’m not getting anything,” Hito stated indifferently.

Hidarri gave him a look. “What’s with you?” the taller man asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re making me food and taking me out places, but you never get anything for yourself.”

“Oh.” Hito took a moment to organise the information he was about to share. “That’s because you’re sick, and I’m fine.”

Hidarri thought for a moment, considering the explanation. “I guess.”

“Also, I think you should get out more.”

“Ahah!” Hidarri said enthusiastically, as if he was the one who discovered the truth. “You’re on my case because I don’t do much after work. Really?” He gave a worn look as he sniffled again.

“No. Well, yeah. But it’s good for you. You’re showing signs of lethargy and depression.”

“I’m not depressed. I’m just,” he thought for a moment to choose an appropriate phrase, “not motivated.” Hidarri looked to his side, glancing at the faces of the other people in the shop. The place wasn’t very busy, though a few people were seated with their drinks or small meals. His eyes caught a girl sitting alone. She held a magazine before her as she sipped from the brightly coloured straw in her smoothie. She had a warm chestnut complexion, lit evenly by the setting sun outside and the fluorescent lights of the shop. The formality of her cool grey pencil skirt and brown denim jacket contrasted vividly against the thick, curly chartreuse hair that fell over her shoulders and stopped midway down her back.

Hito followed Hidarri’s stare and connected the dots. “Oh, so that’s what you mean.”

“Huh?” the other man sputtered, caught off guard.

“Why don’t you talk to her?” Hito gently nudged Hidarri, who turned toward him.

“What? No, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Hito asked, keeping a subtle eye on the girl.

“I don’t know her! I don’t even know what I’d say,” Hidarri brought his hand to the back of his neck, bringing his attention back to the menu on the wall behind the counter. In truth, talking to girls he wasn’t familiar with made him a little nervous. He had a tendency to stumble over his words and say stupid things, and even more often he embarrassed himself. He was pretty shy, especially around pretty girls. Hidarri did what he could to focus back on the items on the menu.

“You should at least try to think of something to say.” Hito said.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, that’s up to you. But you better think fast!”

“What? Why?”

As Hidarri felt the pressure of coming up with something on the spot, the girl approached the two of them.

She greeted them with a friendly smile and said, “Excuse me.”

With wide eyes and a look of surprise, Hidarri turned to face the owner of the pleasant voice. He looked over and down a few inches into golden eyes. Despite wanting to respond coherently, he managed to mutter a sound to at least acknowledge her.

The woman smiled at his awkward response, then looked to Hito. “Are you two in line?” she asked.

Hito nudged his room mate, prompting him to answer.

“Uh, no.” Hidarri backed up and gestured to the counter for her to go ahead.

“Thank you,” she said politely, then walked past them.

Hidarri watched her as she placed an order for a veggie wrap. He started to space out as Hito looked on curiously. He waited for a moment, then whispered, “Are you serious?”

“What?” Hidarri whispered back defensively.

Hito lifted a judgmental eyebrow. “That’s all you’re going to say?” he asked, keeping his voice down.

“Shh. Shut up. Hito. She’s right there!” he urged back in a frantic, yet hushed tone.

“She can’t hear me at this decibel from this distance,” the green eyed man assured, pointing to the woman whose back was to them.

Hidarri remained concerned, motioning with his hand for Hito to stop talking.

“Come on, Hidarri,” he said, speaking in a normal volume. “You’re too worried. You need to relax!” He smiled at the tall woman as she turned and stepped away from the counter, but she was looking at his friend. She returned to her seat with her food and went back to reading her magazine.

Hidarri smiled nervously as Hito took his turn at the counter. He placed his order and received a tropical smoothie high in vitamin C, potassium, and zinc a couple minutes later. The two then took a seat on the far side of the shop. Hito passed the other man his smoothie from across the table. Hidarri sighed and took a drink. He looked up from the table and into his friend’s calm eyes.

“I could talk to her,” he claimed quietly.

“Talk to her like you talked to the girls on the trail?” Hito smiled, reminding Hidarri that he said something similar earlier about how he could say hello to them, but had never shown any attempt to. “Do you want me to ask her to talk to you instead?”

“No!” Hidarri asserted enthusiastically. He waved Hito down to stop him from doing anything abrupt. Peering past his friend, he could see the woman a few tables down, contented with whatever she was reading. “She seems nice.”

Hito had a well programmed understanding of the psychology behind the beginning stages of a romantic human relationship. Hidarri was exhibiting fairly stereotypical behaviour for the more passive approach. “I wonder if she’s more outgoing than you?”

The blonde set his drink down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, if she’s not more outgoing than you, you’ll never get to talk to her because you’re too shy,” he explained matter of factly.

Hidarri returned his gaze to his friend. “What makes you think I’m shy?”

Hito shrugged, but smiled. Hidarri frowned back.

“I’m not shy,” he said. “And I’m gonna talk to her. Just not right now.” He shut his eyes and quickly drank the rest of his smoothie with the intent of leaving the shop sooner. Rather than efficiently wrapping things up, he grabbed his head with his palms pressing against his temples. “Ow! Ow ow ow!”

Hito laughed at the other man, then stood up. “Alright. I’ll believe you for now. Come on.”

Once he had collected himself and thrown out his empty cup, Hidarri and Hito got back into their car and returned home. Hidarri instantly found his way back to the sectional. Hito made a stop in his bedroom, then joined his room mate in the living room. Hito let himself cool down and turned the TV on. They watched the screen for a short while.

“She probably has a boyfriend,” Hidarri said, trying to brush off his growing interest in the woman from the smoothie shop.

Hito chose not to chuckle, although he found Hidarri’s self-inhibiting thought process counter productive and completely inefficient. “Why make that assessment?” he asked. There didn’t seem to be any logic behind his friend’s concern. He had no evidence in which to form much of an opinion about her whatsoever. Perhaps there was a social dynamic that Hito had overlooked.

“‘Cause,” Hidarri explained with a sigh, “she’s really pretty.”

Hito narrowed his eyes trying to process his point. He seemed to be assuming that just because someone was attractive to him, they must undoubtedly be in a relationship. The conclusion his friend had formed didn’t make sense to him, but he did manage to connect the assumption to feelings of pride and insecurity. “Just because someone by your standards of beauty is attractive doesn’t confirm a closed relationship status.”

Hidarri blinked at the other, trying to take in what Hito had just explained, despite the formality of it. “Maybe. But she probably has a boyfriend.”

“You could go back and ask. Then you’d know for sure.”

Frowning, the taller of the two turned back to the television. “Y’know, I think you’re too invested in my life,” he admitted with a chuckled. “I know what it is. I’m checking my files.” Hidarri pointed his index fingers at his temples and stated, “My sources indicate that you need to get yourself a girlfriend.”

Hito cracked a smile, then let out an entertained laugh. The irony was clear to him, but he knew the same wasn’t true for his friend. “That sounds just like me!” He put his arms up and imitated some robotic hand gestures as he said, “Your analysis is correct. It is time I put thought toward that.” He put his hands down and the two laughed together. With his learning software fully functional, he adapted quickly to Hidarri’s personality. The two could go on for hours joking and talking. It was a pretty simple relationship, as they still didn’t know a lot about each other. Nevertheless, they had already become good friends.

Hidarri exhaled, having caught his breath. “I’m going to talk to her,” he said, a confident smile on his lips.


	12. Chapter Twelve

** CHAPTER TWELVE **

The streets of Yugi Shisetsu seemed desolate during the late fall. People didn’t commute as often as spring or summer, but they’d be back at it again soon. Winter sales always spiked the attention of desperate shoppers as the days drew closer to over commercialised holidays. People flooded in like herded sheep. Trevin already hated the holidays. Corporations marketed them for consumerism and society used them as excuses to pretend they had flawless relationships with families and friends as well as to shamelessly stuff their faces with excessive amounts of fancy food. The community exploited their fake generosity and compassion the most at the end of every year. The boy saw right through people. Their false smiles and laughter, their irrelevant gifts for one another. He puffed on his cigarette, then dropped it and snuffed it with the sole of his worn shoe. Looking up, he saw a man about his height lean against the wall beside him. The man had white hair, pale beige skin, sharp golden eyes, and a telltale outfit consisting of white and black with a matte orange tie.

“Hey little raven,” the man said in a calm, familiar voice.

Ollie was well known in the city for his access to a large variety of street drugs. In particular, he had been the one who had gotten Trevin hooked on his speed-like upper. Trevin had taken it originally it for his own defense and awareness in mind after becoming homeless, but since then, he’d worked it so seamlessly into his routine that he didn’t feel like himself without it.

Trevin nodded at the other. Despite his appearance, he was sure Ollie had to be older. He was smart and crafty and always knew what to say. He’d even had the kindness to go out of his way to show Trevin how to look out for himself, even in the less self respecting ways.

“Things going?” Ollie asked, his hands in his pockets.

Trevin knew he had the drug on him, but Ollie made a habit of talking with the black haired boy first. If things weren’t ‘going’ as he put it, Ollie would know he didn’t have the money and they’d avoid the deal altogether. Observing the black glovelike tattoos that coloured the other’s skin from the middle of his forearm to the ends of his fingers, the boy recalled the first time the two met.

Ollie had come upon Trevin during a downward spiral of fatigue and street abuse. It was during his early days of homelessness and he was losing control. Down a fifth of his average weight, he sat fatigued and lethargic beside a dumpster on half of an cardboard box he’d pulled out for himself. In a daze, he hadn’t noticed the drug driven altercation that had started deeper in the alley. He could hardly concentrate, let alone move to a safer place. 

It was after the fight had been forced to an aggressive stop by Ollie and a few of his bodyguards that the white haired man took notice of the boy tucked in the shadows among the rubbish and grime. He walked over. Trevin saw his shin high black combat boots, but couldn’t muster the strength to look up. He then saw a yellow medicine bottle in the black tattooed hand of the man as he offered it to the boy. He didn’t remember whether or not anything was said, or what came directly afterward. That moment was, however, the beginning of his ascent back toward control and clarity. And he had Ollie to thank for it.

“Things are going,” Trevin said with his usual tired sigh. His eyes traveled down from the man’s short sleeves to the long black glove tattoo that reached to Ollie’s fingertips. Even though they only met up on strictly business, the older man was a calming presence and security for Trevin. He moved closer so they were leaning beside each other. Looking up, Trevin noticed the other’s smile. He always seemed to be too deep in thought to guess what was really on his mind. Still, the scene was nothing new to either of them.

The younger man held the cash behind his back until Ollie gently took it from him. In a sleek motion, the bottle with Trevin’s upper exchanged hands and the deal was done. With the pills in his pocket, he knew he could survive the dangerous city streets.

In the distance, the doors of the subway car opened. People poured out like boiling water in the chilled air. The station was one of the safest places Trevin knew, although it wasn’t as promising as a busy shopping centre or a bank. He had much more freedom to loiter in the corridors and channels below the city. It even provided a fairly quiet resting place if he could find a forgotten nook or crevice to huddle up in.

“I saw Dezlo the other day,” Ollie said. The two of them were old friends. “He’s not picking anything up for Hotaru, anymore. I hope that doesn’t mean she’s getting cut off cold turkey.”

“They broke up,” Trevin said outright. “He got kicked out while I was on the porch.” He didn’t feel the need to admit that he had actually gone for a walk specifically to sidestep the relationship drama until it had faded. “They were fighting about the usual crap.” He scuffed the toe of his shoe on the pavement. People came and went in front of them, passing or boarding the subway. No one acknowledged the two men leaning against the wall in the background. It was like they faded right into the brick.

Ollie withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, pulled two from the box and set them both between his lips. He closed his eyes as he lit them, then passed one to his friend. “Poor guy.”

Trevin couldn’t decipher the tone of Ollie’s voice. He hesitated before saying, “He’ll find someone else to leech off of soon enough.” After a long drag, he exhaled small cloud of smoke into the cold, underground air. In truth, Trevin only ever saw Dezlo as a good for nothing mooch. At least Trevin could hold his own. He knew he didn’t have to rely on anyone else, with the exception of Ollie and his pills.

The man at his side chuckled. Trevin looked up at his old mentor. “There is still so much you don’t understand, Little Raven.”

“Oh, come off it. I’m not dumb,” Trevin retorted quickly. Ollie just smiled back at him.

The older man patted Trevin on the head. “I gotta get going. Take care, Trevin.” With a wave, the man in white turned and headed away.

“Thanks. You too.” Left alone, he watched The White Fox walk toward the exit. The bustle of people and the approaching subway car came into focus as Ollie disappeared among the crowd. Ollie was a good guy, but Trevin wasn’t daft to the illegalities and foul play that went into crafting a successful life on the streets. Taking a pill between his fingertips, he popped it into his mouth. With a sigh, he peeled himself off the wall. He had to make fast cash if he wanted to eat at least one meal before nightfall.


End file.
